Scenes From a Hat:  The First Time
by SSJL
Summary: Thirty takes on B&B's first time, each with a randomly selected POV, genre, and scenario or locale.  Things are about to get a little crazy in here...
1. Drama on the Roof

**A/N: Alright…I am a crazy person, so if you are thinking about telling me that after you read this, then rest assured I already know. This all requires some explanation. Try not to laugh too hard at me.**

**I'll intend on writing, at a fairly leisurely pace, 30 little oneshots about B&B's first time. The catch…for each one, I have to randomly choose a POV, genre, and scenario/locale out of three 'hats.' (a la 'Whose Line is it Anyway...which I of course do not own). The story I write must be a combination of the three that I have picked from the hats…no matter how impossible or improbable it seems, I will do my best to make it work.**

**Here is a preview of items in the categories:**

**POV: 1****st**** person—Booth or Brennan; 2****nd**** person—Booth or Brennan; 3****rd**** person omniscient**

**Genres: poetry, friendship, fantasy, supernatural, hurt/comfort, humor, romance, adventure, angst, and drama (notice **_**no **_**tragedy—I would be a mess for a week if I even **_**tried **_**to write character death)**

**Scenarios/Locales: barn, elevator, couch, floor, hotel, wall, graveyard, pool table, tent, stairs, waterbed, rain, playground, roof, cave, fireplace, beach, hot tub, bed, public restroom, snow, shower, kitchen, gym, balcony, car, nature, pool, office, & boat.**

**All 30 scenarios will be used once. For POV and genre, each must be chosen once before it makes its way back into the pile. To make sure that I don't get out of anything just b/c it's hard;-)**

**This should be **_**very **_**interesting. Here goes—these are the first three I pulled. Wish me luck.**

Drama on the Roof: 2nd person Booth

You always look when you pass her apartment building, and you notice everything…whether the light is on or off, whether the shade is drawn, if the window is closed or open. Sometimes, when the light is on, you take it as an invitation for you to come and visit, no matter the time of night. It's hard not to wonder if she doesn't turn on the light when she _wants _you to come—her own version of Gotham's bat-signal--but you would never be so presumptuous as to assume this is true. Today as you drove past, her shade was drawn, and you felt slightly disappointed. Then, something else caught your eye—a small figure on the roof of the building. It's too high up to make out any details, but you knew immediately it was her. Your car made a screaming U-turn and flew into her parking lot.

You had never run so fast as you did up the stairs, not trusting the elevator to come quickly enough. By the time you made it to the top floor, you were panting, your heart feeling as if it would burst, but it didn't matter. You found the door that led to the roof unlocked, and you took the stairs three by three, bursting out that last door and looking around wildly.

It would have been easy to miss her because she was so still, sitting hugging her knees by the roof's edge. You fly over to her and should have been glad that you didn't skid straight off the roof and onto the pavement below.

"Bones. What are you doing? What's wrong? Why are you here? _What's wrong? _Why…" Your words are cut off when she looks up at you, her eyes luminescent in the starlight. She doesn't seem surprised to see you there, but seems vaguely confused by your histrionics.

"I come up here to sit sometimes. It's quiet…it helps me think." She tilted her head curiously. "What did you think I was doing?"

You don't say it out loud. You should have known better—she never gave up, not once in her life. But somehow, when you saw that tiny, fragile-looking figure on the roof, all you could think was that it must have become too much, and now she was lost. And now _you _would lose her, because you didn't reach out to her soon enough, or try hard enough. The rushing breath that comes from your throat is one of both relief and sadness, as you thought of all the things you could be doing for her…all the things that you could _be _for her, but you've been too damn scared.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay." You barely recognized your voice, and suddenly your legs felt incapable of supporting you any longer. You sit beside her.

If she noticed the panic you were still recovering from, she didn't acknowledge it. She looked back at the sky. "The moon looks so close from up here, doesn't it?"

You look up, and it does. It is full and swollen, though not so much as your heart right now.

She's looking back at you now. "You don't have to worry about me so much, you know." Others may have found her eyes unreadable, but you see the remains of a thousand different disappointments there. Somehow, despite this, she shines—she dazzles you. You will _not _add to those disappointments.

"What if I want to worry about you? What if I need to?" You couldn't believe you were saying these things, giving her an open invitation to reject you, or shut down on you. But she needed to know. You had hidden it for too long, and it'd become a heavy burden that you couldn't shoulder anymore. If it meant being thrown off this roof, you still had to let her know what she is, and what she means to you.

Perhaps she felt the same. Or, perhaps she knew what you were going to say and wanted to prevent it from happening. Intent aside, one moment she was looking at you intensely, and the next moment her lips were on yours; for the second time that night you weren't sure you could breathe. You said her name—her given name—against her lips, and this seemed to ignite something in her. Her honeyed tongue was tasting yours and you probably couldn't have gotten out another word if you wanted to.

You slid back away from the edge of the roof, pulling her with you, away from any prying eyes. Your fingers were trembling as they worked at the buttons on her shirt, but she was urging you on with her lips and her eyes. When you slid it off, you were momentarily stunned; the moonlight reflected off of her skin with an almost supernatural glow, and although you don't believe in such things you wondered briefly if she wasn't some type of ancient moon goddess, sent here to tempt you with otherworldly pleasures.

But this is ridiculous…she is just a woman, and there is no doubt that when you touched her, and when she touched you, that she was a mortal, flesh and bone. You were both human, you both made mistakes, both were vulnerable to the pain and joy of the world. That might have been what you were trying to do: take joy from her, and give her some in return, so that she could see just how beautiful life could be, with its moon and stars and endless sky. It might have been asking too much for her to see that. Right then, _you _couldn't even see it; all you could see was her.

You're not even sure how you both became fully undressed, but it was suddenly so. You lifted her on top of you so that the rough rooftop would not be uncomfortable on her perfect skin…she came into your arms and onto your lap easily. Any discomfort that you yourself were feeling was cancelled out as you were sheathed in a silky wetness, the likes of which you had never known. She pushed you down onto your back, and stayed sitting herself; backlit by the reflecting city lights and the night sky, all you could think of was how beautiful she is. Behind that thought was the question of what she was thinking of you.

She rode you hard, and her cries echoed out. You reached up to touch her breasts, and instead of allowing this she clasped your hands and held them to her heart. Hopefully she knew that any chance she had of convincing you not to worry about her was torn to pieces; from this moment on, she was going to be _in _you, as much as you were in her right now. When she arched backwards, the moon glistening on her skin like dewdrops, you were lost. You both screamed, and you filled her, wishing that you could fill her as much with hope as you could with your essence. But this was all you had right now.

You weren't entirely sure how you would continue to convince her of what she meant to you, and what she meant to the world. Later, as you look backwards in the mirror at the marks where the rooftop scraped your back and your ass, you'll think that this is the bare minimum of suffering you will go through to make her understand how important she is. However inadequate it may have seemed, your night on the rooftop was a moment of birth, of creation. And you will never again look at the night sky without equating it with the majesty that was giving yourself to the woman you loved.

**A/N: Oh the **_**drama. **_**This was actually a good place to start, since it's not too far off from my comfort zone. What will be next? Comfort in the kitchen? Fantasy in the barn? Poetry on a pool table? We will find out together!**


	2. Poetry Against a Wall

**A/N: OMG OMG OMG lol. I cringe everytime I reach in to grab those little slips of paper, thinking please, don't let it be this ('this' being any number of things that I'm reluctant to write). But it's just too much fun, too. I can barely stand it, which is why I can't sleep and am writing at midnight!**

**Please do review each chapter...they are going to be so different stylistically, so I'd really like feedback on every approach. FYI: I haven't written poetry for a freakin' long time, so bear with me. FF poetry format is kind of whack, too, so just in case it's not obvious, the break is meant to come after every 5th line.**

_Poetry Against a Wall: 3rd Person_

They're not sure how it happened,

But it all came down to this.

One moment of pure honesty,

A moment to be missed

or be held onto

Anger melts to passion

And the usual confusion

Is replaced by sudden certainty

And the only one conclusion

that makes sense

These lips were meant to meet,

These ears were meant to hear

Those words of hot desire

That they alone had feared

and run away from

But there'll be no more running now,

Her back's against the wall

And his body's pressing closer

Though neither can recall

just how they got there

But _that _is how it happened,

One little push too far

And the tension turns erotic

And both are seeing stars

at that first kiss

Clothes are now a barrier

And words are not enough

Though the place is inappropriate

And the wall behind her rough

she needs him now

She lets herself be lifted;

He lets himself give in

To the overwhelming sweetness

And even though she's pinned

she feels so safe

Their bodies bare and ready,

The point of no return

Was reached against that wall this day,

No choice left but to learn

it's meant to be

The first joining of many,

A journey just begun,

Two hearts exist in synchrony,

Two bodies become one

as fate demands.


	3. Adventure in the Rain

**A/N: All I have to say is that this whole thing cracks me up. **_**I **_**crack me up. So here you are: A jungle, a skydive, a scary snake, and of course, a whole lotta smut.**

**Oh…and read and review;-)**

_Adventure in the Rain: 2__nd__ Person Brennan_

It isn't as if you thought often about the way you were going to die, but you never would have guessed it would be in this particular fashion—hurtling towards the ground from thousands of feet in the air, pushed from the tiny plane that was supposed to deliver you to a remote crime scene in the jungles of Chile. A little out of your area, but the victim was a high-profile American figure. Apparently your 'tour guides' were criminals, as well. This was a bad, bad time to realize it.

They say that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes, but that didn't occur as much as a single thought: You should have lived _more. _Of all the amazing things that you'd seen and accomplished, it wasn't enough. This thought hurt more than what you anticipated of that final slamming to the ground.

The impact to your side took what was remaining of your breath away. It took a second to realize that it _wasn't _the earth against your body. It was a man. Booth. He had either been pushed as well, or he dived after you.

"Bones, hold on!" His voice barely carried over the wind screaming through your ears. Instinctively you wrapped your arms and legs around the solid figure of him. The ground was rushing up to meet you…200 feet…100…50… As soon as you were secure against him, there was a mighty 'whoosh,' and a jolt. You gasped…and suddenly you were lifted, buffeted by the wind. There was a moment where it appeared you were suspended…then your descent began again, much slower this time. You clung to Booth for dear life, face buried into his shoulder, trying not to sob in relief. There was no time for being emotional right now…there was no place to land. A dense, green mass of jungle laid before you. Once more, you prepared for impact.

It really could have been worse. Your bodies scraped through the treetops, but major injury was somehow avoided. The parachute became entangled. There was some more jostling, some swinging…then all was still.

"Bones…are you okay?" He was yelling. You winced, your heart still pounding death blows in your chest. "Yes, Booth." You pull your head back. "You don't have to be so loud." When you look down, you see that you are hovering about ten feet in the air.

"You're scratched up."

"So are you. And right now I'm more worried about the fact that I can't hold onto you like this all night." Your arms are getting tired.

"Really? I thought that I was pretty snuggle-able." Leave it to Booth to joke around at a time like this.

You see a branch nearby that looks decently sturdy. "Swing me over there." After a few attempts, you caught hold of the branch and managed to pull yourself up. Gingerly testing the strength of the limbs that the parachute is caught on, you begin to maneuver your way over. "How did you get a parachute?"

"Those guys seemed shadier every second we were up there. When they weren't looking I replaced my backpack with one of the chutes, just in case we needed to make a quick escape."

Annoyance came over you. "You could have clued me in to the fact we were traveling with psychotic murderers."

"Can we focus more on the fact that I saved your life?" He had a point. "Besides, they weren't psychotic. They knew what they were doing."

It was an hour-long affair to help him climb up to where you were, and another hour to find your way down the tree. Once you finally got to the ground, you sort of wished you were up the tree again. It was…a jungle. It was hot, and sticky, and dense, and you weren't quite sure what kind of creatures all that foliage concealed. Nonetheless, you both knew what needed to be done…you had to walk, and try to find some sort of clearing from which you could signal for help. It was so warm. At least you wouldn't die from exposure.

Finally, you had to sit. You talked about normal things…cases, books, baseball. You certainly didn't talk about what was going to happen if you didn't get found. When there was a lull in the conversation, you looked at him, and remembered what it was like to be held by him as you fell through the air. Despite everything…your discomfort, your fear…you have a surge of gratitude that he is here with you. That you are not alone.

Right before you were ready to suggest you get moving again, a most unmanly shriek emanated from him, and he sprung up from his spot. A moment of panic overtook you. "Booth…are you alright?" He pointed, and you saw what the problem was—the four-foot long snake dangling from a tree behind you. Lightening fast, your mind took in its size, its markings, its shape.

"It's okay, Booth. It's just a red blood python."

He gapes at you. "And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

Okay, so the name wasn't exactly comforting. "It's non-venomous. Just ignore it," you tell him.

He covered his face for a minute, blocking his expression. You look at him curiously. "What are we going to do, Bones?" His head tipped back, and he shouted so that it reverberated through the treetops: "_What are we going to do?" _He looked at you again desperately, and you feel a sudden pang for him as you remembered that he has a son, a family. People who needed him. Your heart broke a little bit at your helplessness. He sighed, resignedly. "At least it couldn't get much worse, right?"

You don't believe in the concept of tempting fate, but even you could have told him not to say that. The sky answered him with a rumble. The snake, sensing the change in the atmosphere, slithered away. You looked at each other, wide-eyed. One large, swollen raindrop fell against your arm. Then another on your head. Then…it poured like a waterfall. There wasn't any place to hide from it—both of you were soaked in a matter of seconds. Your clothes clung to your skin, your hair plastered to your shoulders.

Catching sight of him through the sheet of rain, you shook your head powerlessly. In response…he laughed. It was an exhausted laugh, but one full of appreciation of the irony of it all. You couldn't help but smile in return, and soon you found yourself laughing too. The rain was cooling against your hot skin. You see him hold up his hands to the sky, filling his cupped palms with water. Walking up to him, you lean in close so your voice will carry over the rolling thunder and the pounding downpour. "I think it's raining." He grins at you, cups your face in his hands—then he hugs you. In the midst of this unbelievable situation, a sense of joy exists in you right now, being here, together with him. You are in danger. But in his arms, you feel safe.

You pull apart, dripping. Your eyes meet; your smiles fade. That last thought, with the ground rushing towards you, suddenly repeats in your head: _"I should have lived more."_

Impulsively, you stand on your toes, and you close the inches between your mouths. At first, all you can taste is the rain, which itself is pure and clean. A second later, and you can taste him, as well; his flavor is all earthiness and hotness and pure maleness. You drink it all in hungrily, and he is matching you kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke. His hands run from your face down your body, and you might as well have been naked because the water has made your clothes a second skin. Realizing this, you eagerly touch him as well, for the first time allowing yourself to appreciate the contours of his body with your hands. Any remaining doubts you may have had about allowing yourself this pleasure disappear when he pulls off his own shirt and immediately clasps you to him again, capturing your mouth.

He says something against your lips; the rain is loud, but you think it's _"We shouldn't have waited so long." _You struggle away from him because you want more than his mouth, and soon you are licking the raindrops from his chest, running your tongue up his body while he tries to get your shirt off as well. As uncooperative as you are being, he somehow manages to accomplish this and you are unexpectedly gasping as he lifts you and lays you gently on the jungle floor, the rain-battered ferns making a surprisingly soft bed as his mouth finds your breasts. The wetness of his tongue cannot be distinguished from the wetness of your body. It is all melting together.

Your soaked pants are difficult to remove, but you both have broken through stronger barriers already, and they are discarded with the rest of your clothes. He kneels before you, wet and strong and hard and _real, _and your eyes lock once more. All of your inhibitions have washed away and are being soaked into the jungle ground, but he seems to be asking silently if this is okay. In answer, you grasp his hardness in your hand and revel in his moan as you urge him inside of you.

The sensation of your drenched joining is wild, over-the-top sexy, and your moans blend in with the sounds of the jungle. You are slippery and grateful for his weight on top of you, holding you down in the most wonderful way. Water rolls from his face and his shoulders and you arch up to drink it before it drips on you. Thunder was crashing almost constantly now. When your climax began, you at first just thought of it as another shaking and rolling of the skies, before you realized it was your own body quaking. Pushing yourself up faster to meet his quickening thrusts, you delight in his animalistic growl when he tenses and comes into you, giving you a part of him. Your eyes flutter back and you feel a little faint from the pleasure.

The water still drips onto you, so you are a little surprised when you come back to awareness and realize its coming from the trees and his body; the rain was over. Part of you feels washed away. Another part feels renewed. You cling together, like you did while you were falling through the sky. It feels a little bit like that right now.

In a few hours, you are dry. Rescue comes, as you sort of knew it would. It seemed the two of you were always being saved, or saving each other, and today would not be different. As you climbed the ladder to the plane that was your savior, you think that maybe your fall was as important as your rescue.

**A/N: Oh, one more thing...I know I've been updating pretty much daily. But I'm going away for the weekend. So don't worry about me or anything--I'm okay;-) I'll see you all on Monday.**


	4. Angst on a Boat

**A/N: As I told Goldpiece, when I drew 'angst' and 'boat,' I knew there was just one place this chapter could really go. So the concept was pretty easy to come by, but that doesn't mean this was easy to write. Now, I've written angsty stuff before, but always with a happy ending, so I'm not sure it could really be classified as angst. I tried very hard to be true to the genre here—the result is something that might not please fans of the fluff I write. Heck, **_**I **_**might not be pleased, because I am in **_**love **_**with fluff. But…the hat demanded it. So check it out, try to judge it for what it is, and know that happier times are ahead… **

**This, of course, takes place before the end of Season 2. When you-know-who was still in the picture...**

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_Angst on a Boat: 1__st__ Person Booth_

I went to find her, knowing that I'd probably find him, too. I could have just phoned her first, but within me was this strange compulsion to monitor them. If I were there, he wouldn't be touching her intimately. If I were there, she wouldn't be sharing secrets with him. So whenever I had even the slightest excuse, I interrupted them with it.

I knew it was selfish, and unreasonable as well. She was not mine. If I even made the slightest suggestion that she might be, she would have ripped me a new one. Temperance Brennan was not a woman who appreciated territoriality. And I was not a man who was a glutton for punishment...at least, I didn't think so. Some would say that my constant interference in her personal life was telling. She herself, though, didn't seem to think much of it, except to be slightly annoyed at my intrusions. Surely, it never even crossed her mind that I cared so much because I wanted her for myself. I tried to push that thought away, myself—it wasn't helpful for me to think that way.

This time, when I showed up at the docks, it was a dismal day, drizzling steadily into the bay and occasionally blowing rain under my umbrella and onto my expensive suit. Ignoring it, I moved steadfastly to Sully's boat. I hated that boat. Finding it, I stood in front of it and shouted for her. "Bones!" I knew she was in there, and I wouldn't leave until I saw her.

After a minute of no sound but the rain, she emerged from the cabin, alone. "Booth? What are you doing here?" She was holding a magazine over her head and dressed more casually than I had ever seen her, in a zip-up sweatshirt and stretchy pants. "It's raining."

"Her three degrees have given her the title of Master of the Obvious," I joked. She smirked, and didn't respond. "Where's Sully?" My friend. The bastard was probably naked below deck. Waiting for her.

"He got called off today on an assignment." I repressed a triumphant smile, but she must have seen some telling expression on my face. "I know…for once it wasn't you interrupting us." For a second, we just looked at each other through the drizzly air. Finally, she spoke again. "Well, come in here. You are getting all wet."

I didn't want to set foot on the deck, let alone go down below to where the two of them had been…_together. _It made me a little ill to think about it. Nevertheless, I had come this far to talk to her, and the rain was beginning to soak through and get a little chilly. So hesitantly, I took her hand and let her help me onto the boat. And I followed her down to the cabin.

It was nice. Roomier than I expected, although still a tight squeeze. It had a bathroom and a kitchenette with a table. The bed was in the far corner. I tried not to look at it. The rain pattered against the outside of the boat, filling the cabin with the soothing sound.

"Well?" I looked at her questioningly. "You must have come here for something."

Oh, yeah. What excuse did I have this time?

"I…uh…wanted you to take a look at these crime scene shots to see if you could give any insight about cause of death before an extensive autopsy and examination are done." I sat at the table with her, and pulled them from my briefcase, and she gave them a cursory look.

"Booth."

"Yes?"

"You know what I'm going to say, don't you?"

I sighed, because I did. "You're going to say that there's too much soft tissue remaining for you to make any sort of assessment."

"Exactly."

Rats. I was caught. I looked out the tiny window at the rain-speckled water, but could still feel her unwavering blue gaze on me.

"What's going on, Booth? This isn't the first time that you've come here with evidence or information that's useless to me. You know better."

I looked back up at her. "Maybe I just want to see you."

Her head cocked. She was studying me, trying to tell if I was joking. "You see me almost every day."

My eyes flickered to the side, and I saw the bed again. That damn bed, that she had absolutely no business being in with him. Jealousy surged inside of me.

"What do you do down here, Bones?" The words were in my mind, but I was surprised to hear my mouth verbalize them.

She raised her eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure that's none of your business, Booth."

She had a point, but now that I started, she couldn't stop me. "Does it make you happy? Does _he _make you happy?"

I was stepping out of line, and I knew it. It would have been well within her rights to tell me to get lost right now. But she didn't tell me that.

"I suppose that happiness is relative, Booth. Out of all the possibilities that exist for me right now, and the choices that I have…this one makes me the happiest." Her face was the picture of indecipherability, but I thought I could see sadness in her eyes about what she thought could never be—_true _happiness, not just the best of a few options. Maybe I was just hoping that's what I was seeing. She folded her hands atop the table. "Is there a reason why you are asking me these questions?"

I stared at her lovely face. When my mouth opened again, what came out was one of the worst things I could possibly say. My voice was low and strangled. "I don't want him touching you anymore."

She was preparing to be outraged by my audacity. She made a move to push her chair away from the little table, but my hand shot out and grabbed her wrist—not painfully hard, but firmly enough to prevent ease of escape. Her eyes flashed. Still holding onto her, I rose and circled the table to her side. She stood as well—we were toe-to-toe.

"How dare you," she whispered. "You come here with some half-assed excuse, to tell me…what? That you don't want me to be happy? That I should spend the rest of my life alone?"

Both my mind and mouth appeared to be on some kind of self-destructive autopilot right now. "I want you to be happy. But not with him."

Oh, she was _angry _now. "With who, then, Booth? With you? Mister I'm-going-to-fuck-your-boss? Mister There-are-lines-we-can't-cross? Just because you have a misguided sense of ownership over every person in your life doesn't mean…"

She couldn't finish, because I yanked her towards me and grabbed her hair and bore down on her mouth with my own. The taste was ambrosial and the texture silky smooth and the heat…oh God, I couldn't even tell if she was kissing me back or fighting me off yet but I knew that I didn't want to stop. Please God just don't let her make me stop…

Either God or the devil must have been humoring me today, because the kiss was going on long past the point she could have kneed me in the balls or punched me in the face. All that anger she had inside of her must have made her hungry, as well, because she was devouring my lips and tongue with the same intensity as I was doing to hers. My hands went down to her ass and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around me. I could feel the boat rocking a little under our weight and it set me a bit off balance. There weren't many places to go, and I strove to make a decision without having to take my mouth off of her. One split second apart would allow a fissure for the anger and fear to come through, and I wasn't going to let that happen.

The bed. The fucking bed—I didn't care anymore that she had been in it with him, that he had claimed her on it. It was going to be ours now. She would never again see it without thinking of me. I fell backwards onto it with her on top of me; for a moment I worried that putting her in control would give her the opportunity to rethink this (or think about it at _all_, since I'm pretty sure thought wasn't playing a huge role right now), but she was grinding herself against me and kissing me and she was obviously almost as far gone as I was. I groaned into her mouth and tried to get in between our bodies with my hands to touch all the parts of her that I had put off-limits until now.

Later, I would feel bad. As much as I hated the fact that Bones and Sully had been together, I didn't hate Sully himself. And yet, I paid him the ultimate disrespect by doing this with his lover, in his bed, on his boat. Hell, I had disrespected Bones, too, by forcing out of my mind any anticipation of the betrayal to Sully _she _was going to inevitably feel once all was said and done. Later I would realize that this was the most selfish act I had ever perpetrated in my life.

But that was later, and now there was only me and her and the rocking boat and now, her naked breasts hovering before me as I unzipped her sweatshirt and thrust my hands inside to feel her, _my _Bones, _my _Temperance. Her body was heaven, and I worshiped it with my hands and mouth; every time she would moan I would do whatever I had just done, harder, to make her moan louder. I flipped her over underneath me and with one hand, pulled her pants off with one smooth motion. The rain outside was almost deafening now, pinging off the metallic parts of the boat. The rocking added to my feeling of dizziness and disorientation at how fast this was all going. She was reaching between my legs, and at the brush of her hand I shuddered. I felt and heard her fingers pull down my zipper, but I wasn't expecting her to simply reach inside my pants, firmly grasp my erection, and pull it out. I nearly choked.

For the first time since our lips had met, she pulled away long enough to say one word: "Now." I needed no more encouragement. I reached down, found her soaking sex with my hand first, then thrust down and into her. Her sharp intake of breath nearly made me lose control, but I strove to move slowly. She was having none of it, and she rolled her hips up and into me quickly. Taking the hint, I pistoned into her ever more rapidly. With every thrust, one thought went through my head: _'Mine mine mine mine mine…" _That's all there was room for.

Her moans became sobbing cries, and the sound both aroused me and made my heart break. If this were the lovemaking I had planned for us, I would have slowed down, brushed her tears away, asked her what she was thinking and feeling. But I didn't want to know what she was thinking, because I knew it would be similar to my own emotions and thoughts: painful arousal and helpless regret. So I continued to drive our bodies to a physical release, trying to drive the memory of Sully out of both of us. I could feel her tightening around me, and breathing the word _'Yes' _into my mouth. The boat was pitching side to side now, both from our frenzied movements and the waves the rain was creating. Our cries filled the little cabin. She seized in around me, and there was no more control—I lost it inside of her, my mouth plundering hers desperately, my body spasming along with hers. We were both lost.

I was spent, sweating, practically unable to move, but I knew that eventually I'd have to move off of her, and look at her. My shame was unbearable.

Eventually, it couldn't be avoided. I had to face it. I rolled off of her, forced my eyes to fall on her. Her eyes were closed, her breathing still heavy. Her body was exposed, and I felt I didn't deserve the beauty of the sight, so I gently pulled the sides of her sweatshirt up to cover her breasts. "Temperance," I whispered, and brought my hand to her face. She turned it away from the tenderness of the touch.

I said her name once more, with greater desperation, and she finally opened her eyes. They were filled with emotions that I couldn't identify. "I'm sorry," I said. I didn't know what else to say.

She laughed hollowly. "You can be sorry if you want, but don't be sorry for me. We were both here. I didn't stop it." A long sigh left her, and she turned her head toward me. "You should go."

"Temperance." I had never said her given name as many times as I had said it in the past three minutes. God, this hurt. "I…I might love you."

Her eyes rolled upwards, as if in prayer. Her voice was full of sadness and confusion. "Just go, Booth."

After a moment of silence, I slowly nodded. I would not risk emotionally hurting her any more today. I zipped up my pants before getting up and slowly gathering my things. I wanted to kiss her, but I knew she would reject it. Neither of us had been ready for this, and now we'd deal with the consequences.

I left the cabin, the boat, and stepped onto the dock. It was still raining, but this time I didn't bother to use my umbrella. The rain was a welcome disguise for my tears. I had no idea how long it would take to make this right again. But now, after being with her…I knew I couldn't stop trying.

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**A/N: Waaaah. That's all. Waaaaah.**


	5. Comfort on a Balcony

**A/N: I had really, really hoped that after the angst of the last chapter, I'd draw something light and fluffy this time. But, fate didn't want it that way. But, the good news is, despite the…um…heaviness, I think you'll find the outcome of this chapter much lighter on the heart. Besides, I do have a soft spot for traumatized Booth and comforting Brennan—we don't see it enough on the show, IMHO.**

**This concept came from the mind of I hart Booth, who apparently had a sixth sense for what genre I was going to draw. You're amazing, girl! Keep those brilliant ideas coming;-)**

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_**Hurt/Comfort on a Balcony: 3**__**rd**__** Person**_

She didn't really mind going out-of-town for assignments—as long as she was working, she was usually pretty happy, and sometimes a change of scenery was nice. The only problem she really experienced with this was a special kind of insomnia that came with being away from home. Psychologists would probably tell her that this sleeplessness that seemed linked specifically to hotels was due to remnants of anxiety from her foster-care days, when she moved from home-to-home on a regular basis. She attributed it more to the newness of the surroundings. No matter the cause, she could always expect to be pacing the floor at night on every trip, so she made sure she brought work and/or a good book along on the journey.

Tonight was no exception. She looked over some paperwork for awhile, took some extra notes from the pictures of the remains they had examined today. When there was really no more work to do, she turned on the television, and was quickly reminded why she hadn't felt the need to replace the one that she broke at home. She read for a bit. By three in the morning, it seemed like the logical thing was for her to at least _attempt _sleep, so she turned off her lights and laid in bed. Once there, her brain promptly began processing all the events of the day and the week and her entire lifetime. She sighed in frustration, and looked at the closed door that led to the adjacent hotel room, where her partner was staying. Imagining him to be sleeping like a baby, she felt a twinge of jealousy. It must be nice not to have so many…issues.

A light filtering through the blinds of the door that led to her balcony caught her eye. It stayed on for a minute, then turned off. It took her awhile to figure out what was so curious about this, then she remembered that they were on the 22nd floor of this particular hotel, and she was on an end unit. The light must have been coming from the balcony beside hers—her partner's.

Having been so unsuccessful in her attempt to sleep anyway, she crawled out of bed and maneuvered her way through the dark to her patio door. Opening the door, she tested the temperature first—it was a warmish night with just a hint of a breeze. Her comfort assured, she slid her screen door open and stepped outside. It took her eyes a minute to adjust to the moonlight; once they did, she could see her partner reclining on a lounge chair on his darkened balcony. They were the only souls in sight at this time of the night. He must have heard her exit her room, but he gazing at the sky.

She walked to the edge of her own balcony. "Fancy meeting you here," she said. He was usually entertained at even her lamest attempts at being funny, but the hint of smile that touched his face when he looked at her was humorless.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "Not at all. I couldn't sleep." She rubbed her arms. "You?"

He was quiet for a few seconds before replying. "I was sleeping, but it didn't go very well." His eyes shifted back up to the stars.

She could sympathize with this; she herself was no stranger to nightmares, when she did sleep. A touch of shame rose in her when she remembered her jealousy for his imagined ease of slumber. "Oh." They both spent a few minutes looking at the sky.

Finally, he spoke. "Well, would you like to come over here and talk for a bit, since we are both awake? Maybe I can bore you to sleep or something." She smiled and nodded. "The door's open," he told her.

On her way through her room, she picked up her robe. She hadn't realized that the door that joined their rooms had been unlocked, and for some reason this ease of access pleased her. Slipping through his room, she noticed that the covers on his bed were askew, suggesting a great restlessness. Empathy again flowed through her as she walked through the open balcony door and sat on the chair beside his, curling her legs up beneath her. "Bad dreams, huh?"

He nodded. "Yeah. It's one of those things where you know you have to get up and stay awake for awhile, because if you fall back asleep you'll be pulled right back into it."

"Yes, I know what you mean." She paused for a moment, trying to remember the social mores that were dictating this interaction. "Do you…you know…want to talk about it?" He looked up at her. "You don't have to," she said quickly. "I'm not sure I can help or anything, but…I can listen. If you want."

He wondered if she was just trying to be nice or start a conversation, but her eyes reflected nothing but genuineness. "Are you sure, Bones? It's kind of depressing."

"It takes a lot to depress me," she promised. "Besides…talking about things that bother us is something friends do…right? Friends take care of each other."

He smiled a little at this, charmed by her, before his head fell back against the headrest of the partially-reclined lounge chair. "Okay, then, if you're sure. I suppose it's more of a memory that comes back to haunt me now and then. Do you remember when I told you that during my Ranger days, I had been stationed in Afghanistan?" She nodded. "We were staying on a coalition base in Ghazni. It was a horrid little place, hot and dusty and desolate. We really hadn't been seeing that much action—were mostly just there to keep the peace. After a few weeks without incident, I think we had all let our guard down a little bit. But, even if we hadn't, I'm not sure we could have prevented what happened."

She had a feeling she knew where this was going, and it hurt her a little already. But she stayed silent. Listening.

"Me and two other guys went into a neighboring town to get some supplies. Was supposed to just be a couple-hour trip, no big deal. But once we got into town, there was a little noise going on. There were a couple insurgents making trouble in front of the embassy. We got involved, subdued them pretty easily. Turned them over to the proper authorities.

"But, as we found out later on the way back to the base, it wasn't just a couple insurgents. The ones we had dealt with were scouts, of sorts. Scouts for a group of terrorists that were a hell of a lot bigger and badder than we had recognized. And they weren't happy about the way we had treated their friends." His voice was sounding further and further away as he talked.

"To make a long story short—we were ambushed on our way back to base, in the middle of nowhere. The last thing I remembered before being knocked unconscious was one of my buddies being shot in the back."

Brennan had known that he had seen horrible things, so she wasn't horrified as much as saddened by where this was going. She slid her chair closer to him.

"When I woke up, I was laying bloody on a dirt floor, hands tied, in what amounted to a wooden shack. That place ended up being my home for about five weeks. The only time I was let out was when they needed some kind of labor done. And for beatings. I don't know why they just didn't kill me, like my friends. I think they enjoyed seeing me suffer.

"I was pretty sure I was going to die there. I was weak, and hungry. I had an infection in one of my wounds that was barely treated. It's amazing the things you think about when you are preparing to die. All the usual stuff…friends, family, the works. But you also think about all the things you'll never get to do. I was never going to be a father. Never going to go to the Superbowl. Never going to have another first kiss. Never again going to see anything again outside of that hellhole."

He finally looked back up at her. Despite the emotion behind the story, his face was stony. "And that's where I go sometimes in my dreams. Where I went tonight. To that place with no hope. To where I had resigned myself…maybe not to dying…but to not _living _anymore."

She had told him that she wasn't easily depressed, but she simply could _not _be unaffected…to think of this man, whose most endearing trait was his unrelenting optimism about all the things in the world that were true and good, on the edge of giving up. The thought hurt her, made her heart ache. A tear slipped down her cheek. "So what got you through?" she whispered.

At the sight of that tear, his face softened a bit. "Really? It was the holes in the roof." She looked perplexed. "Have you seen the night sky in the desert, Bones?" She had. "It's amazing…wide open and perfectly starry. Almost like tonight, only so much vaster. I could see it through the holes in the roof under which they kept me. It was beautiful. I was pretty sure it was the last beautiful thing I'd ever see in this world." Finally giving himself to the memory, his eyes glittered a bit…but then he seemed to rein it in. "But hey…I was rescued a few weeks later. And now…here I am, looking at you." He smiled, a little sadly. "So I was wrong. That sky wasn't the last beautiful thing I saw."

That was it…her heart broke. He was trying to comfort _her_, when it was he who was dealing with this nightmare from his past. "Booth. I'm so sorry that you had to experience that."

"Yeah, well." He looked downwards. "We can't change our histories, can we? We can only move forward."

"But that doesn't mean our histories can't hurt us," she replied softly.

He exhaled heavily. "Now, look what I did. I depressed both of us."

"I'm not depressed," she told him. "I just…wish there were something I could do to help. I know that nothing can change what either of us have experienced…but just something to make it not hurt so badly, you know?"

"Hmm." He reached up and took her hand, tenderly. "Well…maybe it's time for one of those famous hugs that seem to make everything better for a little while. What do you say?"

It might have been exhaustion, or the effects of the moon, or the emotions that Booth's memories had generated in her, but for once she didn't hesitate. She moved down to sit next to him on the lounge and leaned into him, resting her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist. For one surprised moment, he didn't react. Then, his arms remembered what to do and crushed her to him tightly. Resting his cheek on the top of her head, his senses were assaulted with the silky texture and sweet smell of her hair. His fingers traced circles on her back. She felt so very warm and alive in his arms, and he didn't want the embrace to end.

"This feels good, Bones."

"Mmm," she replied, burying her face further into his shoulder.

He took a chance. "Do you mind if we…you know…stay this way for awhile?"

"No, that should be okay. It's making me feel better, too."

He pulled her up a little more so she wouldn't half to twist so much into the embrace; this had the effect of settling her half on his lap. They rested like this for awhile. He wasn't quite sure what was happening. One moment, he was recalling those horrible memories, about a time when he wasn't entirely sure that he'd even ever see a woman again; now, he was absorbing the warmth and sweetness of not just any woman, but his _partner, _whom he trusted as much as he had ever trusted anyone. More surprisingly to him than anybody, tears sprang to his eyes. When he squeezed his eyes shut, they fell.

Feeling the wetness at her hairline, she immediately knew where it came from. She pulled back a bit, held his face in her hands, and brushed his tears away with her thumbs. In that moment, he couldn't believe that anybody, let alone him, could have ever mistaken this woman for cold and unfeeling.

"It's okay, Booth. You made it through. And all those things you thought might never happen…they either did, or are going to. You are a father. You'll go to the Super Bowl." She smiled at him. "And I'm sure that you'll have all the first kisses that you want."

Try as he might, he couldn't find it in him to smile back at her. She was so warm and soft, and right now she personified all his desperate wishes that he made while being held captive in that godawful place. She covered him like a blanket, and it seemed that while she was in his arms, nothing could ever hurt him again. Her own smile faded at his seriousness.

"There is only one more first kiss I want."

He saw the words register, and her eyes widen at his implication. "Booth…"

"Don't say it, Temperance. I'm glad just to be here with you like this. Just don't go, okay? You make the nightmares go away."

She felt a strange mix of excitement and caring and fear. And underneath it all was relief…relief that, somehow, in some way, she was helping him. And he was helping her. Slowly, she dropped her head back down onto his shoulder. He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her. They opened again only when he felt her lips begin to press slow, warm kisses up the side of his neck.

A soft, low moan left his throat. "You don't have to do this," he told her, his words betrayed as he let his head fall to one side to give her greater access.

"It's not a favor," she murmured against him. "Don't we deserve it? For one night, to replace the sleeplessness and the nightmares with something good?" Her lips were at the juncture of his jaw and his ear, creating a warm, tingling sensation that he felt from his head to his heart to his groin.

He took her face in his hands and moved it so they were forehead-to-forehead. Her eyes on his were a balm that soothed his soul. "I'd have to be a saint not to accept what you are offering," he whispered, with effort.

"Please don't be a saint," she breathed. "Just be my partner."

With trembling hands, he reached for her shoulders and eased her robe down over them, leaving her in only her nightgown. Goosebumps formed where the air touched her skin. "Would you give me the pleasure of a first kiss?" he asked her, softly.

In answer, she leaned forward and touched her lips to his, lightly, and he wished desperately that he had this memory to give him hope when he was trapped all those years ago. Because, surely, this kiss could heal the most wounded heart, and comfort the loneliest spirit. She pulled back and they looked at each other, wide-eyed. His hand went behind her neck to draw her mouth to his once more, this kiss no less slow and gentle, but deeper this time. His tongue probed into her and swirled around her own, and contented sighs rose from both of their throats. In flipping her hips underneath her, she finally was able to stretch out fully on top of him. He was her bed, and she was his shelter, and they found joy in each other under the same night sky that made him want to survive so long ago.

Eventually, she sat up and undressed him in the darkness of the balcony. She kissed his body, giving special attention to any scar or mark that she came across, offering visible evidence of her desire to help him heal. The pleasure she gave him negated the pain he had experienced earlier that night, in his bed, in his dreams.

"You're so strong," she whispered, kissing her way up his chest.

Cloudy with desire, his mind only half-comprehended her words. "I try to stay in shape," he told her.

"That's not what I mean," she said, and he got it and he loved her for saying it, meaning so much because she was the strongest person he knew. Lifting her nightgown overtop her head, he stopped everything and stared, and when she grew restless he pulled her to him and kissed her senseless, trying to convey his gratitude for her tenderness on this night. Her tenderness, and her understanding of what he needed, more than anything else: hope.

When their bodies came together, she realized that she now had a new home away from home, one that would never leave her fearful or hurt or sleepless. And as they moved quietly, the lounge chair barely holding their weight, it became clear to him, as well. Here it was. His new stars through the ceiling, his new vast sky in the night. His new hope for the future. And when they exploded together with a force that would put any supernova to shame, they both knew that tonight, the nightmares were driven away for good.

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**A/N: Let's all hope for something super-cute for the next one, huh? Stheriously.**

**Not to treat you like you only have a memory-span of 24 hours, but…I appreciate reviews. They are nice. Please leave them;-)**


	6. Fantasy in the Woods

**A/N: We wished for something light, and we got it, for sure! This is, by far, the most ridiculous thing that I have ever written in my life. But, it was also one of the more fun things. I believe that I am going to combine the fantasy/supernatural categories from here on out, because they are so similar, if that's okay (of course it's okay! It's **_**my **_**challenge, right?:-) And, honestly, because I'm so unfamiliar with the genre…I don't watch Lord of the Rings or read Harry Potter or anything like that. So be gentle. Or not. I just like feedback.**

**I won second place in the Greek mythology bee in middle school. Impressive, huh?;-) I took some liberties with bits of the particular myth in this story, and I know that. Just in case there are any myth experts out there ready to chastise me. Heehee.**

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_Fantasy in the Woods—1__st__ person Brennan_

I would like to preface this account of the events that occurred several days ago with a statement that I don't truly believe that some of them actually occurred. Certainly, my perceptions were real, but as for the reality of the situation—well, let me assure you that it is completely illogical to believe that there _is _any reality to the situation. I am documenting what I experienced for myself, for the express purpose of trying to remember and understand what actually happened, because what happened is too fantastic to be believed (fantastic in the most literal translation of the word).

I am a forensic anthropologist whose chief duties include identifying the dead by examining their skeletal remains. It is my job to try to understand a person when all I have is the bare-bones evidence. I enjoy my job, and I'm good at it. Most of my time that is not spent actually performing these activities is spent researching, teaching, and thinking about them. In fact, many believe that my job _is _my life, and they are partially correct. However, I do have a creative streak that occasionally prompts me to pursue other activities that are _not _forensic in nature. Although these alternative pursuits would seem to some to be academic, I take much pleasure from them and find them to be welcome breaks from the usual.

One of my latest hobbies has been studying Greek mythology. Greek culture is replete with extraordinary accounts of immortal and mortal beings who were responsible for all the events in nature—most of the stories are as interesting as any of those written to entertain, even though they were created as a part of a religion. As far as I'm concerned, the religion of the ancient Greeks is just as plausible as the other religions that are popular in today's time. (I cannot tell this to my partner Seeley Booth. If I told him that the existence of Zeus is as reasonable as the existence of Jesus, he may not speak to me for a week). Nonetheless, my interest is mostly recreational and a little academic. I am not religious in any sense of the word, and I do not believe in the fantastic creatures and gods discussed in my mythology books. But I _am _fascinated in how these beliefs shaped not just Greek culture, but our own. I can think of several words in our language that are derived from these myths. Narcissism. Psyche. Aphrodisiac. Eroticism. All these words have their roots in the beliefs of the ancient Greeks.

A few days before yesterday's case, which led me and my partner deep into the woods, I had been discussing some of what I had researched with my friend Angela. She knew little about mythology, but said she remembered learning in school about "the horny half-goats with the hard-ons." (Angela has a way with words). I had to laugh at her description of satyrs, which were surely the creatures of which she was speaking. In myths, satyrs were creatures of the forest who were driven mostly by sexual libido. They were always male, with the bottom half of a goat and the top half of a man, and they are indeed typically portrayed with impressive erections. Angela's memory had satyrs playing the role of the 'dirty old men' of the ancient Greeks, and she was correct that this was one understanding of them. In some works, satyrs are described as old, bearded, and lascivious, chasing after wood nymphs and always searching for sex, with or without consent.

However, there is another way that satyrs are portrayed. In some works, satyrs are not old, but rather young, handsome, and strong; their power is not in their strong libido alone, but their ability to inspire desire in others. In these stories, satyrs rarely needed to play the mating game, because those in their presence became immediately lustful. They were every modern-day male's dream creature. I actually preferred this latter interpretation to the former; it made them seem more impish, and less predatory, and I told Angela so.

Let me speed through the days after this conversation occurred. They were…difficult. The Jeffersonian Institute (my place of employment) had a sudden influx of human remains to examine, and I spent nearly all my time at work and free time trying to accomplish everything. Sleep and food were hard to come by. On top of everything, I was just getting over a minor cold and was lightly medicated, which didn't help with the fatigue I was already experiencing. I'm used to pushing myself, so all of this didn't bother me as much as it might have others. I took it in stride. When it came to the week's end, and I was asked by Booth to participate in the examination of a crime scene deep in a Virginia forest, I figured that one more day of work wouldn't hurt me so I agreed to travel with him for the day. Angela thought I was crazy for doing this, but I was convinced that I was still functioning well. I wouldn't have gone otherwise. After a brief argument, Angela finally realized that I wasn't going to change my mind. Sarcastically, she told me that if I found a hot, sexy satyr in the woods, to bring it back as a souvenir, as this would be the only way the trip would be worthwhile.

If I appear to be perseverating on the small details, it is because they might turn out to be important in what came later.

So, I went to the crime scene. It was a long drive there, and a hot day. After three hours of careful work removing, piecing together, and preparing the remains for shipment back to the lab, I was truly starting to feel my exhaustion. I was a bit short with the rest of the F.B.I. crew that was there, ordering them around and chastising them when they were more heavy-handed with the remains than met my standards. Taking the brunt of my bad mood was Booth, who finally decided to stay out of my way the third time I barked at him for talking to me when I was trying to work. It wasn't a good day to make friends.

Things were winding down when nature called, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to wait another half-hour, plus the drive back to use a restroom in a more civilized location. I am not unfamiliar with spending time in remote areas, so although it wasn't my first choice, I didn't hesitate long before making my way through the foliage several yards to find a private spot to relieve myself. On my way there, I kept reminding myself that in just a few hours, I could be back in my bed.

It was as I was finished and zipping up that I turned to head back to the site, and I saw him. Above a particularly thick patch of shrubbery, I saw the shoulders and head of a man. And he was staring at me. Apparently one of Booth's crew had similar needs to take care of, and ended up at the same spot as me, getting a free show along the way.

"Excuse me," I said, fully expecting him to apologize and turn on his heels back to base. But he didn't…he just stood there, staring. A smile came over his face.

At that point I was extremely annoyed. I wasn't afraid, because if this peeping Tom had intentions of forcing himself on me, I could either take him down myself, or scream, knowing that the rest of the crew would likely hear and come to my aid. But even if he wasn't dangerous, who did this guy think he was? Although, completely objectively, his face was extremely attractive, with dark hair and a charming smile, and what I could see of his bare shoulders was broad and muscular. Then I realized…_bare shoulders? _Was this man naked? Suddenly, I _was _prepared to go on the attack, especially when the shrubbery rustled as he made to come out and walk towards me.

I was about to scream at him, but the sound died in my throat before it left my lips. My mouth fell open. I felt paralyzed.

I was right…attractive face. Muscular shoulders. And, now I could see, a well-developed chest. A beautiful specimen of a man. But then…from the lower torso downwards, his body was distinctly bestial. Specifically, goat-like. The whole deal. The fur. The tail. The cloven hooves. I shook my head a few times with my eyes closed, trying to dispel this impossible image. But when I opened them again, he was still there, closer even, grinning widely and standing on his four legs. And, for the first time, I saw underneath him an almost obscenely-large, human erection. It was Angela's satyr. _My _satyr.

It would have made sense for me to be fearful, if for nothing other than my sanity. This image was shocking, and the two mismatched parts of this thing's body should have been grotesque. But I did not respond as such. I felt my pupils dilate, my breathing become shallow...all my fatigue was gone. Warmth flowed through me, and my body flushed. My nipples hardened. I was suddenly, crazily sexually aroused, and it seemed to be coming from somewhere foreign, certainly not from the sight of this strange half-beast. I don't know how long I stared at the thing, my heart thumping and my body pulsing almost painfully with desire. With that broad smile, it started advancing toward me. I don't know what would have happened if, at that moment, there wasn't the sound of someone or something else coming through the brush. I heard someone call my name from just a bit of a distance. Well, not my name…more specifically, "Bones!"

Both the man-beast and I looked towards the sound, and heard it come closer. Our eyes came back together and met one more time, just for a second. It winked at me. And then it trotted away into the woods, just as Booth found his way through the foliage to where I was.

He asked if was okay, said I had been back there for a long time and he was worried about me. I'm sure I didn't dispel his worries much, with my temporary inability to speak, my red face, and my damp brow. I wanted to tell him what I saw, but either couldn't or wouldn't get the words out. I stared at him.

Understandably concerned, he came closer to me, and pressed the side of his hand against my flushed face as if testing for a temperature, saying my name once more. The touch was innocent—but that arousal that had built inside me ever since seeing…it couldn't _really _have been a satyr, could it?...was now pouring over my body as if a dam burst. All the things that I had strived not to notice about my partner for two years—his chiseled good looks, his delicious, manly scent, his muscular body—all of a sudden was all I could see, and it drove me crazy. Literally.

Without ever making a decision to do so, I was pushing his shoulders back until his back thumped, not gently, against the trunk of a nearby tree. His breath whooshed out of him at the impact, and now it was _his _turn to be speechless. My eyes met his, wildly, and suddenly I had my mouth on him, kissing him like I was dying and only his lips could bring me back to life.

In the back of my mind, I could sense his surprise and hesitation; certainly, under different circumstances, he would have pulled back to at least ask me if this was really what I wanted. But I was overcome with lust and I didn't give him that opportunity, and after a moment he seemed to catch my fever as well and was devouring me just as I was him.

In my current state, his lips weren't enough. I pressed my palm against his chest to separate him from my mouth, and without faltering I dropped to my knees in front of him and undid his pants while he gasped in what I imagine was shock and lust. Wasting no time in pulling out his erection, I swallowed it greedily. Suddenly, his penis to me was like every chocolate-coated ice cream cone fantasy, and it was more delicious than all of those treats combined. Never in my life had I been so turned on, and the sounds I was making were at least as excited as his, if not more so. My hands ran over his body while I serviced him, sliding up his shirt and down his bottom to his legs and up again while he leaned against that tree, not able to get enough or feel enough. I was completely gone.

I moaned in protest when he pulled me up to him, but when he began kissing me again and pulling at my own pants, I became hungry with a new need. Impatient, I yanked at them myself and forcefully moved him around with my hands at his waist, so that it was my back against the tree. I was trying to climb up his body, and I saw his mouth begin to move to say something, probably something about what the hell was happening or if I was truly okay with what was about to happen. I didn't want to hear it—if he wasn't inside me in the next few seconds I was fully convinced that I would either explode or die. Forcing his words away with a kiss, I grabbed his hands and positioned them under my bottom so he had no question about what I wanted.

Finally giving up the gentleman act, he lifted me up, and I wrapped my legs around him and wiggled downwards onto his erection, crying out in delight. He had to press me against the tree and use one hand to cover my mouth, because I had stopped caring that others might be within earshot. As he pumped into me at an increasingly desperate pace, I felt like I was going to pass out from the pleasure. My eyes squeezed shut, I tried to force the image of that bi-species figure with the huge penis out of my head and concentrate on what was happening. Concentration seemed impossible to find, and everything became a blur of his body pressing me and the rough bark scraping against my back and the quickening sliding of him in and out of my sex. Tiring of covering my mouth with his hands, he again used his lips while holding me tighter so that he could thrust harder. If it is possible to scream into another person's mouth, that's what we were doing. Everything was hot and sweaty and I couldn't take the pressure inside of me anymore so my body burst in orgasm. His followed seconds after, and the throbbing of him inside of me felt almost as good as my own climax. I shook and we stayed there, panting, likely looking completely ridiculous as he stood holding me up against that tree.

I'm not sure how much time passed, but what finally broke our trance was a voice from not too far away, yelling that the crew was finishing up and we were leaving soon. Our faces pulled apart and we looked at each other, and I felt awareness slowly creeping back as if coming out of hibernation. He whispered that we had to get dressed, and I agreed. It's a good thing we hurried with this, because immediately after our clothes were on one of the team came back to urge us to hurry back so we could depart.

On the drive back, we were silent for a long while before Booth asked me, tentatively, if there was anything I wanted to talk about. Honestly, I replied that I didn't know what to say. What was I going to say? That a mythical beast had caused in me a magical, insatiable lust that I had to fulfill by having sex with Booth? I had no desire to be committed to a psychiatric ward that day, although I have since wondered if that might not be called for.

I still have no completely fulfilling explanation about what occurred. Perhaps, my lack of sleep and the effects of my cold medicine somehow caused delusions and hallucinations, and lowered my inhibitions. However, I experienced no other delusions before, after, or since this incident, and I had and have been functioning just fine. Maybe, my mind was playing tricks on me, and I saw a real man; my recent studies of Greek mythology, as well as Angela's suggestion, caused my imagination to run amok about what he looked like. Dr. Wyatt or his friends from the psychological community might say—and this, to me, is the most farfetched explanation of them all—that I had profusely sublimated a sexual attraction to my partner, and my mind invented the satyr as an excuse to act out my desires. Unlikely.

In any case, I saw what I saw, and I won't rest until I come to a satisfactory, scientifically sound conclusion regarding what, exactly, it was; I will continue to research this matter until I am happy with the result.

Strangely enough, although I have experienced no more delusions, my sexual desire still appears to be heightened to almost a disturbing degree. These feelings seem limited only to Booth, and I visit him now almost nightly, trying to scratch the itch created by my "satyr." Although Booth remains a little confused by my change of heart about the nature of our relationship, he has yet to complain about it. I plan on keeping detailed notes about the consequences of my experience in the woods, and seeing where they go. Further research definitely needs to be done…I believe that I'll go back over to Booth's tonight to see if I'm still effected by my experience with the satyr…


	7. Friendship in the Gym

**A/N: So, this time my challenge was to figure out how a friendship fic that ends in sex is different than a romance fic. Lots of overlap there! So, to keep the focus on the friendship, I tried to concentrate on the sweetness and the trust and that nice dichotomy they have together, even aside from the sexual tension. You'll have to let me know whether or not I succeeded. Even sex aside, I would die to see the first part of this fic in the real show. **_**Bones**_** just begs****for a no-holds-barred, B/B smack down. Aw yeah.**

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**_Friendship in the Gym: 3rd person_**

It didn't begin between the two of them—it began as a part-heated, part-playful discussion in the lab between Booth and Jack Hodgins. Hodgins, ever mindful of conspiracy theories, was insisting that the government was responsible for a wide range of technologically-advanced, privacy-intruding surveillance techniques (including, but not limited to screening every citizen's phone calls and using barcodes in a secret program to track every purchase ever made). Booth argued while the government indeed kept track of suspicious activity, it had neither the time nor the desire to conduct the kind of massive intrusion into every person's life that Hodgins was discussing. The more Jack pressed the issue, the more defensive Booth got, until he was talking loudly and gesticulating wildly a little too close for Jack's comfort. The argument came to a crescendo when Booth got in his opponent's face, explaining that "you have no _idea _the things the government does to protect your ungrateful ass," and Hodgins' nervousness finally won out. He ran and hid. Behind Dr. Brennan.

Booth looked on in amazement, the argument temporarily forgotten. "Seriously, man? You're going to hide behind _Bones?"_

"Damn straight. You lay a finger on me, I'll get Dr. Brennan to kick your butt." Brennan, concentrating intently on whatever was on the examining table, seemed content to ignore the scene that was playing out in front of her, but Angela and Zack watched on amusedly from across the room.

Laughing, Booth shook his head. "First of all, I wouldn't touch you if you paid me to do it. Secondly, Bones could _not _kick my butt." For the first time, Brennan looked up interestedly.

"Are you kidding me? Dr. Brennan is the _queen _of butt-kicking. You should know that," Jack declared, finally coming out from behind her.

"I probably could subdue you pretty effectively," she finally spoke up, matter-of-factly.

"Come on, Bones. I outweigh you by, like, sixty pounds. And I have more muscle mass than you. I very much doubt that you could take me down." There. Argument over.

Or not. "Your size doesn't matter, Booth. I've effectively grappled with men your size or larger. Size doesn't matter as much as technique." This struck Angela as funny, and she snorted out a laugh.

"But those men probably didn't have the training that I've had. Sorry—you're good, I'll admit, but you're not as good as me."

The woman did not appreciate being challenged. She pulled her latex gloves off. "Oh, _really?"_

Angela decided to intervene before a smack-down occurred right in the middle of the lab. "Obviously, the only way to solve this is an appropriately-refereed duel. Then it would be settled once and for all." Brennan looked at her with her eyebrows raised. "Come on! Who wants to see a duel? Duel, duel, duel…" she began to chant, pounding a fist into her other hand. She was joined by Zack and Hodgins.

"Duel, duel, duel, duel…"

"I'm not going to fight Bones. I might hurt her."

That pretty effectively sealed the deal. Brennan crossed her arms. "Three rounds. After work today, in the gym. Our friends here can referee."

"You're serious?"

"As a heart attack. Unless you're worried you'll lose."

So that's how they ended up in the gymnasium designated for the Jeffersonian employees that evening, dressed in their workout clothes and circling each other like they were stalking prey on the mats. Angela had told them the rules: The goal was to pin the opponent for three seconds. No striking, no dropping and/or slamming on the head, no small joint manipulation, no compression or poking of the throat, eyes, or…ahem…groin (Angela had coughed a little bit at this one). Everything else was fair game. "But, for God's sakes, don't hurt each other," they were warned. As if they had to be told this.

"One last chance to back out, Bones," he said, grinning, never taking his eyes off of hers. "I'm not going to take it easy on you just because you're a girl."

"The only thing I'm going to be backing out of is the winner's circle when this is over," she replied sweetly, although her eyes were equally as intense.

He made the first grab, for her lower arm, hoping to immediately get her in an armlock and force her to the submitting position on the ground. Anticipating the move, she easily dodged it, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into a clinch while bearing down to try to put him off-balance. He was momentarily surprised by her strength before recovering and putting his upper-body weight to use in trying to twist her sideways and onto the floor. He was successful at this…but not before she thrust one leg between his and hooked her calf behind his kneecap. As she fell, his legs came out from underneath him and he thumped to the ground beside her, as well. Unprepared for the fall, he was disoriented for a second. Shit. He should have used a throw.

His split second of being stunned was enough for her to scoot around and grasp his leg between her legs and arms, pushing her hips forward and hyperextending his leg into a kneebar hold.

"One….two…"

Oh, it wasn't going to be over _this _easy. Using the leg that _wasn't _trapped, he used his strong thigh muscle to swing his hips around, so that he would go over her and be facing downwards. She was light compared to him, and from their current position it was fairly easy to lift her with his hips. She was forced to release her leglock to catch herself from falling hard.

They were breathing heavily now, and starting to get a little sweaty, which made it more difficult to take firm hold of one another. When he scrambled to pin her with a simple lateral press, he straddled her hips and held her chest to the floor. Looking down, he grinned at their position, enjoying the flushed look on her face as she wriggled against him. He took her wrists in his hands and pinned them to the floor beside her head. "Bet you never thought we'd end up in this position at the end of the day, huh Bones?"

"Hey Booth," she whispered. He looked at her questioningly.

"One…two…" came from the corner.

"I _always _thought we would." The wrists that were being held by him shot backwards, disrupted his center of gravity, while at the same time her pelvis and hips gave a mighty thrust, throwing him sideways and off of her. He had no time to react before she was on him. This time, she had her whole body weight into holding his arm backwards and trapping his legs with one of her own. Struggling against her made his arm hurt like a bitch.

"One…two…" Gasping, he gave up. "Three! This round goes to Dr. Temperance Brennan!" There was cheering from the sidelines as she finally released his arm. He winced and rubbed it while she climbed off of him, grinning obnoxiously. He refused to take her offered hand, helping himself up instead.

"And now, you'll never want to wind up in that position again, huh?" she said, a mischievous look on her face.

Despite his annoyance at how the first round went, he couldn't help but smile at her. Her eyes were shining, and her skin was glowing with the exertion of their little sparring match. This was a problem…none of his other opponents had ever been so damn _cute. _

"I'm done messing around with you, sister," he declared, as they began circling one another once again.

"But messing around is so much _fun," _she playfully taunted.

That was it. This time, instead of grabbing for a specific body part or letting himself be drawn again into a clinch, he let his full weight of his side connect with her front, his hips connecting right below her center of gravity. When her breath was slightly knocked out of her, he grasped her body with both hands and pivoted her over his hip and onto the floor. Once there, she made a grab for his leg but he sidestepped it, throwing his body on top of hers like it was a WWF match. He wasn't going to give her the opportunity to toss him away this time, so he compressed her limbs as well as he could while avoiding that powerful bucking pelvis of hers.

She wildly tested the mobility of her limbs to see how to get free, but quickly realized that they were all being held quite effectively by the man on top of her, although this didn't stop her from struggling. Their now-slippery skin was sliding together, and he was, infuriatingly, in her face, and her heart was pumping, and…damn if it didn't feel entirely bad. Later, she would think that if this realization hadn't occurred to her right then, she might have had the concentration and motivation to break free. But she didn't break free, and the "three" was upon her before she knew it. She glowered up at him, and he didn't move right away, enjoying his victory. There were hoots and hollers as he was declared winner of the round.

He lifted his chest up off of her, his lower body still pressing down on hers. "Now _this _position is more like it," he crowed.

"Booth," she whispered through clenched teeth. "You are compressing my groin. That's against the rules."

He jumped off of her like she boiling hot, and she chuckled to herself. She may have lost this round, but she was successful in embarrassing him, which was _almost _as good.

The third round went a little longer. Both were determined, but their sparring had a new edge of playfulness to it, as they both were coming to know each other's fighting styles and could more easily dodge and avoid the holds and pins that the other favored. Their audience was delighted by the show and encouraged them enthusiastically. After about five minutes of this little dance, both were gasping for breath. When Brennan knocked Booth to the floor, he went down easily, but so did she. Rolling around for a bit, battling for control, they strained against one another. Brennan managed to capture Booth in another armlock, but her muscles were weakening and he pulled free before the count even began and wound his legs around hers, restricting her movement. She struggled to sit up.

He was tired, too. "Just stay down," he begged. There was no way. Keeping his legs entwined with hers, he tried to force her down by her upper arms, but was having trouble getting the momentum to get her to the ground. He pushed with all his might. She was staying sitting upright with the force of her abdominal muscles alone, and he couldn't help but admire the strength that was inside of her, even though she was so delicate-looking. It was a captivating mix. He reached inside himself to access one, last hidden reserve of strength, and her back hit the floor. She struggled.

"One…two…" His muscles were wearing out. She was going to break free. But, miraculously, at the last second, she seemed to stop trying to do so.

"Three!" He had won, but right now he was too tired to care. Disentwining their legs, he collapsed, on top of her, first, before rolling off. They laid, panting.

Their friends came over to compliment them both and to congratulate Booth on his two-to-one victory. From above him, Jack shook his hand. "Just so you know though, dude," he told him, "this doesn't prove that she can't kick your ass. She did once, and I bet if you went another round or two, she'd do it again." If Booth weren't so tired at that second, he would have protested.

By this time of the night, the gym was empty. Watching the two partners amusedly as they lay there like fish out of water, Angela patted her other two colleagues on the back. "Come on, guys," she told Hodgins and Zack. "I think we should give our prizefighters here a chance to recover." Grinning at each other knowingly, they left the gym, leaving Booth and Brennan alone.

When he could breathe normally again, he rolled over to face his partner. "You could have gotten away," he said accusingly.

She shrugged, her pulse beginning to slow a bit. "Maybe I was tired of fighting."

"I didn't know that you got tired of fighting." She didn't reply.

He stood carefully, wincing. He was going to be sore tomorrow in the places he hit the floor and she pulled on him. She took the hand he offered her to help her up, and walked over to the weight bench where she had stashed her things. Grabbing towels from her bag, she tossed him one, and kept one for herself. Straddling the bench, she began to dry herself off, and he did the same.

Booth had thought that this victory would make him want to rub it in her face—repeatedly—but surprisingly, he didn't feel the urge to do this. Grabbing her gym bag and tossing it on the floor, he faced her sitting on the bench. "You've got some pretty good moves, Bones."

Wiping her brow, she looked a little suspiciously at him for a second before deciding he wasn't kidding. "You, too." She smiled at him. "All competition aside…that was actually pretty fun."

He considered this, remembering their grappling, a version of their usual bickering using their bodies. It _was _sort of fun. And…he sort of felt better, too. Not as frustrated with her as he sometimes got. "You know what?" he asked her. "I'm not sure how it happened, but somewhere along the line you became my favorite playmate."

She laughed at this as she put her towel away. "That's because for us, work and play have become the same thing."

"Maybe." He didn't return her smile for a moment. "Or maybe it's because…I like you."

Her face was a little perplexed as his sudden openness, but not displeased. "Well, thanks, Booth. I like you too. Most of the time." She nudged his shoulder to show she was kidding.

This finally did pull a smile from him, and he gazed at her with something akin to tenderness. It was nice to see her after workout—not so meticulously put-together and professional—and it reminded him of the woman under the lab coat. The woman that had crept under his skin without him really knowing it was happening. The one who he cared so much about.

"Are you okay?" He hadn't realized that he had been staring; she was looking at him with concern.

His head cocked, and he appeared to be trying to make a decision about something. When he opened his mouth, what came out wasn't what she had expected. Maybe it wasn't even what _he _had expected.

"Can I kiss you?"

Her eyebrows raised, and she had to ask him the same question he had asked her when she told him she wanted to fight. "Are you serious?"

He nodded his head.

She looked at him for a moment, then her head tipped back and she laughed. He waited patiently. Finally, her laughter died, although her smile remained, and she met his eyes again. "Sure. I guess."

Leave it to Bones to act so nonchalant about this, he thought. Now he laughed in amusement a bit, as he leaned forward. Her eyes sparkled as he hesitated an inch from her mouth, and he found this irresistible. Their eyes closed, and their smiling lips met.

At the light touch of their lips, a feeling of warmth spread through her, making her body tingle a bit over and above the post-exercise heat. She heard him make a contented, almost relieved sound in the back of his throat, and it pleased her. The kiss was soft, in stark contrast to their rough play earlier.

They separated, and their eyes opened and lingered. "That was so nice," she told him. He heard genuineness in her voice.

Yes. It _was _nice. He was so ambivalent about so many things in his life. How to be a good father. How to reconcile his career path with his religion. So many things. But in that moment, with his lips touching hers, he had no questions, and no doubts.

He chuckled, and repeated his words from earlier that day. "Bet you never thought we'd end up in this position at the end of the day, huh Bones?"

She had the same answer for him. "I _always _thought we would." Then, putting her fingers lightly against the muscles of his arms, she leaned in and captured his lips once more. This time, he traced the inside of her lips softly with his tongue, as if testing the waters. When she allowed him entrance into her mouth, his hands came to her waist and pulled her closer on the bench. Her shirt was still slightly damp, her skin a little slick like his as his thumbs lifted the material of the shirt and caressed her.

"Is this okay?" he whispered against her lips.

She thought about his question briefly. This man was her partner, her friend. They had comforted each other in difficult times, and saved one another's lives. She had never intended on liking him, let alone allowing herself to get as close to him as he had become. But, however it happened, she now trusted him as much as she had anyone in her life. A curiosity filled her about what it would be like to make love to someone she trusted so much.

"I'm pretty sure it is." Smiling, he pulled her hips closer to meet his own before lifting her shirt, exposing her sports bra underneath. Embracing her, he enjoyed the feel of pressing against her when he _wasn't _trying to hold her struggling body down. He touched her up and down the sides of her upper body, trying to feel where all her strength came from.

Not to be left out, she slid her hands up the back side of his shirt, tracing from his lower back to the muscles of his shoulders. She had admired him before as his damp shirt clung to his body, but now it was in the way. Before she could lift it away, though, he was encouraging her bra over her head. She wasn't going to stop him.

She wanted to kiss him more, but having just revealed her breasts he wasn't going to continue without a look. He pulled back. "Aw, Bones," he whispered. "You're so pretty." Where their hips were together, she felt a noticeable swelling on his part. She blushed at the simplicity of his admiring comment, somehow feeling it was one of the best compliments she had ever received. He brought his palms up to her nipples and trailed them downwards, making the already-hard nubs further darken and tighten while she sighed happily. "The prettiest," he murmured, as he eased her upper body back so that he could take her nipple in his mouth. Despite their recent workout, she tasted delicious, and they both made contented noises at this stimulation. When he allowed her to come back up, it was he who eagerly was pulling at his own shirt, wanting to feel her breasts against his bare chest.

They touched for a long while, enjoying the slow exploration of a territory they had always wondered about but never delved into. The desire and arousal spread quickly through them, but a more subtle glow took residence in their hearts, as well. After they completely undressed and he laid her down on the bench, they looked at one another longingly while they had one last look at the other's naked, aroused body. "This is going to be good, you know," he told her softly. She nodded. She did know.

Her bottom on the edge of the bench, she pulled her legs back to give him access, while he leaned over her clutching at either side. His hold became a death grip as his hardness brushed against her, and almost immediately seemed to be sucked up inside her hot, tight entrance with barely any effort. When he was fully inside her, he gazed down at her wonderingly, before smiles grew on both of their faces at the sheer joy of this much-desired union. She clasped her legs around his ass as he drove into her, painfully slow to start, then quickening in response to her murmured encouragements.

She felt blissful and a little high, able to give her body to him fully with no fear or reservation, no worry about him not being the man she thought he was. Before this, he was her friend; afterwards, he still would be. She trusted this as much as she trusted her science, because he had proved it to her again and again. Waves of pleasure began to unfold in her, as she purposely relaxed her body and allowed him to drive her to the edge. Feeling her surrender, his pace became more erratic and he groaned, sliding smoothly towards the inevitable. Bearing down hard a few, last times, he saw her flushed face contort and felt her fingers digging into his back. Groaning in relief, he gave himself over to his own eruption, and they shared the delight of this moment together.

As they came down, a sense of deju vu came over him, as he remembered just an hour ago laying beside her, gasping for breath after their workout. Sensing this similarity, he began to chuckle, and his breathless laughter was contagious. He leaned his damp brow down against hers, and kissed her deeply.

"You're pretty amazing, Bones. Even though you lost to me."

"Yeah, well." She kissed him back. "I thought you'd need your manhood restored after I let you win.

He gasped indignantly before she pulled his mouth back to hers. Despite their annoyance at the other's implication, it was good to know that whatever had changed between them here in the gym today, the most important things had stayed the same.

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**A/N: Sweet.**

**Not sure if I'll be able to post again this week or not. My mommy is coming to visit. And I just don't think I can tell her I need to take a shopping break to write smut. Sorry:-(**

**B/B song of the day: A Little More of You, by Ashley Chambliss. Sigh…the fluffy thoughts it evokes.**


	8. Romance in a Barn

**A/N: Well **_**finally. **_**A good, old-fashioned romance. But, of course, it's gotta be Bones-style. See if ya like this one…**

_Romance in a Barn: 1__st__ Person Booth_

"When was the last time you had your electrical system checked, Booth?"

I rolled my eyes. As if it mattered right now. "I don't know, Bones. Don't they do that during the yearly inspection?"

"They don't always examine the alternator very closely. You should really make a point of doing that regularly."

"Thanks for the tip. If we ever get back into civilization again, maybe I'll do that."

"I'm just trying to help. You don't have to get smart with me."

Sighing, I looked toward her. "More walking, less talking, Bones."

She raised her eyebrows, but stayed silent as we walked down the road. I quietly asked God why we couldn't just have jobs that kept us in locations that were wired with electricity.

But, as luck would have it, remote locations were ideal for burying bodies, so once again we ended up in the middle of nowhere, my partner crouched over the skeletal remains of some poor soul dumped by the rural roadside in the scorching heat. It hadn't rained for days, and even the nearby crops looked sad and wilted. The sun also hadn't been very kind to our victim. We were out for most of the day scouting the crime scene, and Bones and I were the last ones there, collecting the minutia that passed for evidence in her lab. Around three, thankfully, we headed back. Not so thankfully, our car sputtered to a stop about two miles into our trip. Of course, our cell phones had no reception, and our only company appeared to be endless fields of corn. Running on the assumption that where there was farming, there was sure to be a farmhouse, we had taken our chances in leaving the car and walking. And walking. And walking some more. And (also of course), my companion was the infuriatingly logical one whose conversation couldn't seem to stray from the benefits of monthly alternator checks. My partner and, God help me and her and all the people who we come into contact with, my girlfriend.

Yes, I know. Nobody forced me in this frustrating, passionate, insanely stimulating relationship, but loving her seemed to be a force completely out of my control. Even the beginning of this thing was a fight: we were arguing, and our voices were raised, and I was in her face trying (unsuccessfully) to get her to see my point of view. When she asked if I was going to kiss her (she was just wondering, she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, because people usually didn't get this close to her unless they were going to kiss her), I completely lost it. I was going to _show _this woman what a kiss was. And I did, with my fingers grasping her hair and her back against the wall. We had pulled apart that time, gasping, apologizing, promising it would never happen again. But the problem with kissing each other was that after we started, we couldn't seem to stop. After three weeks of pulling each other into darkened rooms and a few heated make-out sessions in the car, we decided that we should probably try dating each other, before people starting losing respect for us for acting like horny teenagers.

But _I _was the masochist who decided that we should postpone sex for awhile, just to make sure that if this dating thing didn't work out, we could escape mostly unscathed. The sexual tension between us, always palpable, was now practically unbearable. And the frustration wasn't being helped by this impromptu breakdown, the sere climate, the long walk, or (and this was a new one!) the threatening black clouds that were forming overhead. Apparently, the rain gods had decided, shortly after our car had rolled to a stop, that it was soon time for the drought to be over.

"Look over there." She was pointing across a field to a silo and, right below it, a rooftop of some kind. "We should head towards it."

"It looks like a barn. There aren't going to be any people in a barn. Or, more importantly, any phones."

She took on a patient tone. "Of course. But the people who own the barn must be nearby. The animals don't take care of themselves. If we walk down past it, I bet that we'll run across real, living people."

I briefly considered the logic of just returning to the car and hoping for someone to pass by and offer to help. But she had already started down the dirt path through the field, and I reluctantly followed her. In the twenty minutes it took to walk towards the structure, a few, heavy droplets began to fall from the sky.

"I don't see a farmhouse nearby, Bones. We should probably walk back, it's going to get dark soon…" As if disagreeing with my intentions, those drops of rain quickly turned to a deluge. If it wouldn't have been so exasperating, it would have been funny.

"Come on!" She ran the last few yards to the barn. "Help me!" She was struggling with the heavy doors. I ran to assist her, and together we pried the door open. We went inside, both pushing with both arms to close the doors behind us. The sound of the doors slamming shut complemented the clap of thunder that sounded at the same time.

"Well this is just great." We looked at each other. She was still wearing the protective suit that she always used to examine organic matter and remains during field work on our cases. It was completely drenched, and she reminded me of those pathetic pictures of once-fluffy dogs after a bath. I realized I likely looked the same way, and I burst out laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"What?" she asked indignantly, before meeting my eyes and realizing the source of my amusement. She began chuckling as well then, and the horses that were in their stalls looked at us curiously. "What, you don't think this is a good look for me?" She put her hands on her hips and thrust one hip out in a modeling pose, which made me laugh harder.

Looking around the barn, she switched to practical mode. "So what do we do now?"

The barn was fairly well-kept, so it thankfully didn't _smell _as much like a barn as some I had been in. The hay-covered floor beneath us was trampled down from taking the horses in and out. "Well, it's probably not a good idea to go out there while it's raining like that. So let's say we dry off and wait for the storm to pass?" I noticed a ladder leading up to a loft, where all the fresh hay was kept. "Why don't we go up there? It'll be warmer and dryer…and away from all these beasts."

She nodded in assent, and began climbing. I followed behind her. "What are the chances that this place will get hit by lightening and catch on fire?" I asked.

"Do you really want to know that?" She had reached the landing.

I paused in my ascension. "I suppose not." Shaking off the thought, I continued climbing. I reached the top just in time to see her unzipping her suit. "Whoa! What are you doing?"

She gave me an impatient sideways glance as she pulled off her shoes. "Our stuff's not going to get dry on its own for a long time, Booth. It'll be a lot more comfortable if we lay them out for awhile." She shrugged the suit off her shoulders and off her body, leaving her in only her tank top and panties. This is the most I had seen of her since we started dating three weeks ago. There was definitely nothing pathetic-looking about her right now. She could have been a model in any of the magazines I had ever seen.

"Jesus, Bones." I was staring, seemingly helpless to look away. She looked at me questioningly, then the source of my discomfort seemed to occur to her. She smiled coyly.

"I'm sure it's nothing you haven't seen before."

"Not on _you," _I grumbled, as I began untying my own shoes.

Wringing her hair out, she replied, "I'd like to remind you that it was your idea for us not to sleep together yet. I would have been happy to have sex with you the first time you kissed me."

"First of all, thank you for reminding me of that. Because it was such an easy decision to make, that I almost forgot about it." She grinned at my sarcasm, and it was far too easy to imagine her in that smile and nothing else. I pulled off my soaking jacket and began to unbuckle my pants. "Secondly, I couldn't have sex with you the first time I kissed you. We were in your _office. _There's nothing romantic about your office."

"I don't need romance."

"Well…maybe I do." I had unbuttoned my shirt, and found it to be mostly dry, having been hidden by my jacket. I spread it out atop the hay and motioned for her to sit on it, and she did. Upon inspection, coming up here had been a good idea. The hay was fresh and clean, and it had a fragrance to it that reminded me of home, in an old-timey way. "You're not going to guilt-trip me for being respectful towards you. And towards our relationship."

She didn't reply, which I found odd because she _always _had a comeback. When I glanced down at her, I found her staring at my body interestedly, as I had done to hers just a minute ago. Instead of calling her on it, I gave her a bit of a show, slowly divesting myself of my remaining clothes until I, too, was only in my underwear. After laying out my clothes and motioning for her to scoot over, I sat next to her on my shirt, and leaned back on a nearby bale of hay, which was surprisingly soft. She averted her eyes.

"Temperance Brennan, are you _blushing?" _Again, she said nothing, and I grinned. "No need to be embarrassed. I'm sure it's nothing you haven't seen before."

She laughed lightly at this, and I knew that this was odd for her too, to have this awkwardness with someone who you have known for a long time. Someone who, coincidentally, has already had their tongue in your mouth several times, and their hands feverishly running over your body.

"Hey." I put my arm around her. "This whole thing is crazy. Let's just try to make the most of it, okay? Have some fun." I twirled a wet strand of her hair around my finger. "You really _do _look beautiful right now. The whole wet thing definitely is a good look for you."

"Thanks," she said, almost shyly. "You too." She finally met my eyes, and I felt my stomach somersault. It really didn't matter how much skin she was showing; it was that intense, blue-eyed gaze that had made it impossible for me not to kiss her again after that first time in her office. I felt myself being drawn in…then there was something that sounded like a high-pitched shriek that made us both jump and look around wildly. It was the wind swirling through the rafters. We _definitely _weren't used to the sounds of the country. I felt goosebumps form under my fingers on her arm.

"You cold?"

"A little," she admitted. My protective instincts immediately kicked in, and I enfolded her fully in my arms, resting her head against my chest. She didn't resist, hugging back and snuggling firmly into my side. This woman was a contradiction in the flesh, I thought. How could she be so cool and logical one second, and so irresistibly soft and welcoming the next? "So," she asked, "how do you think we are doing?"

"I'm doing fine, Bones. How are you?"

"No…with the dating thing. You said you wanted to wait to see how we did."

Hmm. Interesting question. I answered her slowly. "Well…I guess it would depend when you asked me. Right now, with you in my arms, I'd tell you that we were doing fantastic, out-of-this-world amazing. But when we're in public, and you're treating me like you can barely tolerate me…not so much.

She seemed to think this through for awhile. "I don't try to treat you like that. I'm just not really sure what to do with you…you made such a big deal about us being in a relationship that is more than sex. I'm not entirely sure what you mean by that."

I sighed. "I mean that instead of just going at it whenever we're together, we actually act like…we care about each other. Otherwise…how do I know you just aren't using me for sex?"

She burst out laughing at this, and I frowned. "It's not _funny_."

"Yes it is. You need me to act all lovey-dovey towards you for you to know that I care about you."

My God she was infuriating. "No, I…just never mind, Bones. We're doing fine. Forget I said anything."

She lifted her head from my chest. "Don't be mad at me. I'm just really…not good at this." Her eyes weren't teasing anymore, and she was obviously looking for my understanding. I looked at her and my heart broke a little bit for all the reasons why this was hard for her. Her face was soft now, and I had an urge that felt different somehow. When I contemplated it, I realized that although I was having the familiar desire to kiss her, I didn't want to ravish her right now. It occurred to me that every single one of our previous kisses was hot, desperate, and filled with raw sexuality. Yes, this was different.

I could tell she was a little unnerved by the way I was looking at her, but she didn't look away. Two of the fingers of my right hand gently stroked her cheek. "Booth…" I had never looked at her so long before kissing her before, and she could sense this change. Her goosebumps returned. My mouth lowered to hers and brushed it gently, our lips barely moving. A shiver ran through her. The touch of my lips on her stayed light; I gently kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose, before returning to her mouth. She pulled away slightly and said my name again. "Booth…"

"Don't you even dare think about this now, Temperance." I covered her lips again with mine and felt her tongue against me, tentatively. It wasn't like the previous heated tongue-battles we had before. Somehow, this seemed even more sexy. Sensual. She was trembling all over now, almost as if she were afraid. It hit me suddenly that she was. She was completely comfortable with our bickering, counter-dynamic work relationship. She was completely comfortable with the idea of a sexual relationship. But this idea of making love—it terrified her.

My fingertips trailed down her arms, caressed her waist. My lips touched the side of her neck, and I tasted the rain there. The sexually self-confident woman who would have gladly allowed me to take her hard and fast against her office wall seemed to have left the building. "I'm not sure I can do this…" she whispered.

She couldn't take this from me, not now. I was going to teach her how to do this. "Yes you can," I whispered back, stroking her still-damp hair and pulling her closer to me, enjoying her gasp when her chest touched mine. "This feels so good. Doesn't this feel so good?" I eased her back into the soft hay, kissing her shoulders and the swell of her breasts now with my hand on her hip, my hand separated from her flesh by just the thin material of her panties. With each kiss, I pulled back a bit to gaze in her wide eyes, insisting that she stay connected with me while I touched her like this.

"It's too much," she whimpered, and I could feel that this emotional stimulation was threatening to overwhelm her but I didn't care. I needed to make her understand what lovemaking was like in a _real _relationship, one in which love and sex and passion and caring all merged together, like it was meant to be.

"Shh. Just feel it. It'll be okay." My hands slid a bit under the bottom of her tank top while I kissed her lips once more, then went a bit higher. My fingertips brushed the bottoms of her breasts, and she left out a small cry against my mouth. "Do you want to feel my hands on you?" I asked her raggedly, inches from her lips. Her eyes squeezed shut for a second, then opened, and she nodded her head. I knew that this wasn't the first time she had imagined for us. Neither of us were virgins, but it's likely that she was even more sexually experienced than I was; she had expected to be in control of this encounter. But _I _was the one who believed in the union of bodies and souls together. As I demonstrated this belief to her, she was a little fearful, but she was also intoxicated. I felt a little drunk on her, myself.

I nudge her top above her breasts, and stared at her, worshiped her with my eyes. "You are so incredibly perfect," I whispered. My fingers on her were as light as butterfly wings, as they absorbed the sweet silkiness of her bare skin. I touched her like this for a long time, stroking her, coaxing her nipples into hardness with the scantest touch of my fingertips and my hot breath, and her moans started to sound like cries. When she tried to close her eyes, I stopped touching her until she looked at me again, begging for this thing she both feared and desired. Holding her hand in mine, I trailed it slowly down my own body, allowing her time to feel what was hers, and how much I wanted her. The scent of the fragrant hay and the rain and her was all around me, and in the process of captivating her I myself was becoming further gone.

When my fingertips lightly touched her through her panties, she jumped and shuddered, saying my name, and I loved the sound of it. I told her to say it again, and again, and each time she did I rewarded her with a deeper touch, until I was rubbing her gently, but firmly and rhythmically. "How are you doing this to me?" she moaned, her breath coming in short gasps. I realized quickly that, like kissing her, making love to her was never going to be something that I could do only once.

I was painfully hard, but distracted from it by her delightful reactions to my touches and kisses. "Do you want me inside of you, baby?" If she would have said no, I might have literally been driven insane right then.

"You've always been inside of me," she told me breathily.

It was the most beautiful thing a woman had ever said to me in my life, and my worries about our first time not being romantic enough disappeared. Moaning into her mouth, I lifted up to pull off her panties while she did the same to my own underwear. The wind was rattling through the rafters louder now, seemingly in sympathy with our increasingly wild desire. Her hand on me inflamed me as she positioned me. As I poised to enter her, I stopped. I stared at her face, kissed it, stroked her again. I wanted to remember every single detail—each sight and sound and smell. I was pleased when she stilled as well. "Booth." Tears hovered in her eyes. "Make love to me."

I smiled shakily. "I already have. But I'd be happy to continue." She let out a small laugh that turned into a gasp as I entered her. Her hips rose to meet mine. I placed my hands behind her head so that I kiss her deeply as I probed her depths. Her increasingly uneven breathing and tensing body drove me crazy, but I strove to move slowly. I so wanted to make this last…for her, and for me, and for the relationship we had that would only get better as we pushed down our walls and let each other in. Our cries mingled. We became part of each other. We came for each other.

When it was over, we both trembled even though we weren't cold anymore. I stroked the pieces of hay from her hair and whispered words of pride and encouragement to her as she clung to me.

"What do you think?" I asked her quietly.

With one last sigh, her head dropped back. "I suppose this whole romance thing isn't that bad."

I laughed and kissed her. "Well, that's a start."

But both of us knew that we had started long ago. This was the latest big step in a journey that began when we met and continued here in the middle of nowhere, where there was nothing but the rafters and the hay and the two bodies and souls that could make no more excuses not to come together.


	9. Humor on a Playground

**A/N: The challenge: how to make something funny and hot at the same time. I'm still not entirely sure it's possible, but I gave it the old college try. It's a little OOC, but that can be kind of fun too sometimes, I think, gives you more room to play. Coincidentally, that's the theme!**

**Although, I could totally see B/B arguing about whether or not they were capable of having hot sex while _having _hot sex. That wouldn't surprise me one bit.**

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_Humor on a Playground: 2nd Person Brennan_

He offered you another glass of wine, and you told him you'd drink one only if he did. You _hate _drinking alone, especially for a reason as pathetic as finding out the guy you were dating was actually a creepy jerk that took just a little _too _much interest in the goriest details of your cases. Yup, you have impeccable taste in men. At least with this one, you realized that something was a little off _before _you slept with him. Hell, maybe you should have slept with him. At least you would have got something out of this last month other than another reminder that you are relationally-challenged. If there was a Special Olympics for relationships…yeah. You'd still lose.

Angela must have told Booth about your latest episode of misfortune, because _you _certainly didn't. He knew something was up, though, because he showed up on your doorstep with a pizza and two bottles of your favorite wine. You told him to go home. He wouldn't. So three slices and a bottle later, you found yourself lamenting about your inability to recognize dysfunction in men when you saw it, until it was too late. You knew you were being wretchedly girly, but every sip of pinot noir that passed your lips made it more impossible to keep your mouth shut. Luckily, after the second bottle was empty, your partner was three sheets to the wind as well, so it was unlikely that he would remember your tirade.

"Oh, _Bones," _he told you loudly. "You just need to start listening to me before you start to date someone. I can tell you whether or not it's safe to proceed."

You looked at him witheringly. "You haven't liked anyone I've dated. If I listen to you I'll end up a crazy old lady living alone with a hundred pigs."

"Don't you mean cats?"

"No, I don't like cats. It would more likely be pigs."

"Poor Temperance," he simpered, pulling your head to his shoulder and stroking your hair soothingly. "The crazy old pig-lady."

God, that sounded _terrible. _You looked up at him disbelievingly for a second, before realizing that he was mostly genuine. You sighed in defeat. "Booth, I'll do whatever you want. You can have complete creative license over my love-life. Just please stop feeling sorry for me."

He looked hurt. "I'm not feeling sorry for you."

"You only call me Temperance when you are feeling sorry for me."

Realizing he was caught, he was silent for a second. Then…"Sorry."

"Booth!"

"Sorry in _general. _Not sorry for you."

A little irritated, you sat up again, and immediately felt a little dizzy. "Whoa." You instinctively reached for his shoulder to keep from swaying. Mmm. Muscle-ly.

He burst out laughing. "Bones. You're _drunk."_

"So are you," you replied indignantly, noting his dilated pupils and the increasing volume of his voice. Maybe you shouldn't have finished off that last bottle.

He looked thoughtful, and then spoke as if he had just discovered the cure for cancer. "You know, there is _fresh air outside. _Maybe we should go out and breathe it."

Your head was spinning. "Yeah…fresh air sounds like a good idea." You both stood, a little wobbly, and abandoned your wine glasses as you meandered out the door, down the stairs, and into the great outdoors.

"Wow," Booth said, his head tilting upwards when you were finally underneath the sky. "Look at the stars twinkling."

"Stars don't really twinkle, Booth," you told him exasperatedly, nudging him and making him almost fall backwards. "The air's movement in the Earth's atmosphere just makes the light bend and look that way."

"Well forgive the stupidity of my sense of wonder," he said indignantly. The baby.

A spontaneous urge came over you, which _never _happens, so you figured you should probably go with it. "Come on," you said, grabbing his hand and leading him to the back of the building. He followed you obediently, his hand warm in yours. He livened up as soon as you got to your destination.

"Oh, _cool," _he cheered, immediately running up the stairs to the twisty slide and flying down it, legs splayed and arms in the air. You had to laugh at his childish enthusiasm. It's a good thing that no one else used the playground at this time of the night, or else you probably would have been embarrassed by his antics. You sat on one of the swings and watched amusedly as he swung across the monkey bars, adding to the effect by making monkey noises. Of course, he wasn't content to let you rest for long. Not on _his _playground.

"C'mon Bones! Go, go, go!" He ran over and pulled you to your feet, half-dragging you to the stairs that lead up to the fireman's pole. You began to climb, and apparently weren't going fast enough because he goosed you, making you squeal.

"Booth!"

"Well there's a fire! You have to hurry!" You booked it up the stairs, and upon reaching the landing, wrapped your arms around the pole and spiraled your way down, him following right behind. He chased you up the stairs again for another ride down. "Gotta put out the fire!" You repeated this again and again, until exhausted, you finally escaped from his grasp and ran to the merry-go-round, flopping down on top of it and gasping for breath. You felt it began to spin, fast.

"No! Stop, Booth, it's making my head feel weird." You heard him laugh, and then fall down beside you, the ride still twisting slowly. You both caught your breath and watched the stars spin like a mobile above you.

You sighed, your heart finally returning to normal. "Don't you wish you could be a kid again sometimes?" you asked wistfully. "I didn't have to worry about crazy boyfriends then. Now…look what a mess I am."

He looked over at you. "Aw. Don't be so hard on yourself, Bones. I mean, I haven't dated a lot of weirdos or psychos or anything like you have. But the outcome has still been the same…still single. I guess we're both equally hopeless."

If the wine hadn't been working its magic on you, you might have been offended, but right now this struck you as the most insightful thing he had ever said. "You know, you're _right." _You sat up and leaned in close to him, the alcohol interfering with your perception of personal space. "_Neither _of us have been capable of having a functional relationship. It's like…our jobs have warped us or something."

He sat up then, too, apparently as amazed by this discovery as you had been. "Wow, I think you've got something there. We are both royally screwed-up." He frowned. "That really sucks for us."

"Yeah." You stared into each other's eyes then for awhile, apparently reading the mysteries of the universe there.

"You know what I don't understand, Bones? Why the two of us just can't get together. I mean, seriously…we're the only ones who understand what we do. We like each other good enough, and neither of us are weirdos or psychos. You're hot, I'm hot. It just makes sense, you know?"

You turned that around in your head for a second. "No, I don't think that's how it goes. We don't have compatible worldviews. That would be just another dysfunctional relationship."

"No, seriously. Just think about it for a second. This might be _as good as it gets. _Wouldn't that be crazy if like, 20 years down the road we realized that? And we had wasted our time with all these other people?"

"Hmm." It didn't _seem _terribly logical. But you _did _trust Booth more than anyone else you had met in a long while. You considered this. Finally, you spoke. "Okay. Let's try."

He looked at you questioningly. "Try what?"

"Try to kiss. You know. See how that works out."

"You just want to try kissing?"

"Sure."

He looked a little surprised, but shook it off. "Okay."

Actually, _you _were a little surprised that he agreed so easily. You had kind of meant it as a joke. "Um…how should we do it?"

"How about…on the count of three?"

"This is kind of childish, Booth."

"Do you want to kiss or not?"

Geez he was annoying. "O_kay_ then. Let's do it together."

"Alright." You stared at one another. "Okay…" Then, together, "one…two…"

Before you finished the count, you both burst out laughing at the burgeoning smiles on each other's faces.

"You can't _laugh," _you gasped, practically falling backwards onto the merry-go-round.

"You laughed first!" he wheezed. He tried to take a few deep breathes to calm himself down, but you began giggling again at his efforts. Five minutes later, you both managed to have some semblance of a straight face.

"Okay, okay, we'll try again. That one didn't count."

"Didn't count," he declared seriously. You sat, legs folded, across from one another. "We can do this."

"Alright. On the count of three. One…two…" Your faces drew closer together. "Three!" Your eyes met at the last possible second, and that was enough to set you both into a fit of giggles again. "Oh, God." Collapsing backwards, you let the laughter run its course."

When you could speak again, you struggled back into a sitting position. "Alright, Booth, this isn't a good sign. We tried. It just wasn't meant to be."

"Agreed," he chuckled. He pulled you into a hug, and you laughed together for awhile. "I guess we just need to stick with what we know we're good at."

You grinned slyly. "I know what that is."

"Oh yeah? What?"

"Putting out fires!" You flew off the merry-go-round and towards the landing of the fireman's pole again, and with a shriek he followed you. The two of you slid down the pole again once, and then you ran back up the stairs, him chasing you, close on your heels. This time, when you reached the top, you surprised him, ducking into the wide plastic crawling tunnel that led to the landing for the twisty slide, on the other side of the equipment. He grabbed hold of your ankle.

"No way! You're not getting away until we kill this fire!" Gasping and laughing, you kicked to rid yourself of him, but he hung on you and ended up being pulled into the plastic tube with you.

"Put out your own damn fire!" you laughed, straining to pull away from him. He took hold of your hand and yanked you backwards toward him. You ducked to avoid hitting your head on the top of the tube, but the awkward position threw you off balance and you ended up crashing forward and into him.

For a second you were a little alarmed, thinking you knocked the breath out of him with the force of your fall. "Booth, are you…?" You didn't get to finish the thought. He pulled your face down to his and you were kissing him barely knowing how it happened. Neither of you were laughing now. The tingling warmth in your body that came from the wine now surged again. Not warm. Hot. Very hot. His mouth was demanding and his hands a little clumsy running across your shoulders and back, but his tongue tasted like ice cream.

You pulled back for a second. "I guess it was the counting that threw us off before."

"Yeah. Whatever," he replied impatiently, pulling your face back to his again. Yum. He struggled to roll you over underneath him inside the tunnel, and once he was on top of you, he sat up and promptly banged his head. "Dammit," he swore, rubbing his wounded head with one hand as he used the other to work on unbuttoning your shirt. He gave you a dirty look when you laughed at his persistence in the face of pain, but this didn't stop him from pressing one knee up between your legs, tempting you with the friction.

When he got your shirt undone, he eagerly pulled it off and tossed it outside of the tube. He looked at you while the red plastic of the tube reflected off your skin with a pinkish glow. "Wow. You really _are _hot." His mouth buried in between your breasts.

"Booth?" you gasped, squirming against the sweet wetness of his mouth.

"Mmm?"

"Do you think we're going to be sexually compatible?" You arched upwards so that he could get to the clasp of your bra behind you.

"I'm really not thinking much about that right now, Bones." For a drunk guy, he got your bra off pretty quickly.

"Seriously." You moaned as his fingers first found your nipples, and then his mouth clamped on, sending currents through your chest and downward. "I mean, in a lot of ways we don't really fit. What if the sex isn't…ahhhh…good?" You're pulling off his buckle and you sent it flying. Now not so constricted, you thrust your hands down the back of his pants to feel the ass you've been admiring for awhile now. He hissed and thrust downwards toward you.

"If the sex is bad we'll just go back to being partners." He kissed you again while you tugged his shirt upwards, reluctantly pulling away when it was raised over his head. His skin was hot against yours, and it tasted good when you ran your tongue across his shoulder.

"You don't think that would be strange?" He was using both hands to work on both of your pants. "You don't think we'd always just be looking at each other and remembering the bad sex?" Your pants slid off and his hand cupped you between your legs, his thumb caressing your clit. You fairly shrieked with the pleasure of the sensation, and you squirmed hard, feeling your newly-bare skin beginning to stick to the plastic underneath you.

"No, we could deal with it. We're professional like that."

"That's true," you admitted as you pulled at his underwear, nearly finding it impossible to wait to feel the entirety of him against you. Your fingertips found him, circled him, and you purred with satisfaction. He jerked in your hand.

"Jesus, Bones," he groaned. Then, in a strained voice: "We'll be okay. We won't know if the sex will be good unless we try."

"Yeah. I guess we could try." His hand pushed aside your panties and he pressed his flesh against you. "Yes yes yes…"

He buried himself deep inside you. You both froze for a second. You barely recognized his voice when he spoke. "Well, this might be okay…" With a mighty moan, he started to move inside of you, his muscles flexing against your fingers.

Everything inside you was tightening. "Yeah, this isn't bad…" You couldn't talk anymore because the force of his thrusts was taking your breath away, pushing you towards an orgasm of monumental proportions. Now he was chanting your name like a mantra and you could feel him swelling inside of you. "What…do…you…think?" you asked, with the last of the air in your lungs.

"Not bad at all." He groaned, hard, and you whimpered, and your body reacted to his beginning spasms by seizing up around him and coming ridiculously hard. You braced your feet against the top of the tube and held onto him while you both rode out the feelings.

You panted, wondering what became of your drunkenness. You were almost painfully aware right now—of the cool air funneling through the tunnel, of the sticky plastic against your back, of his sweaty skin against yours. And, of course, the aftershocks of your climax. Let's not forget those.

"So…"

"So…"

You both had to laugh as you pulled apart, looking at each other's mussed hair and flushed skin. The remnants of "not so bad" sex.

"See, Bones? Much better than a crazy boyfriend, huh?"

"I guess," you said begrudgingly. "Although I'm not entirely convinced that I've left behind the 'crazy' part." He slid his t-shirt over your head.

"You know what?" he said thoughtfully. "I think we're actually much more functional when we are playing."

Your eyebrows raised as you recognized the truth behind his words. "Maybe we should play more often."

And that's how you figured out what had been missing.

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**A/N: Yay for: 2nd season DVD's. Gag reels. New season in a week and a half squeeeeeeeee!!!!!**


	10. Poetry on the Beach

**A/N: So I pounded out this little jobbie in the 15 minutes I had between clients. The nice thing about poetry is that I don't feel pressure to make it lengthy, so it comes very quickly! Maybe sometime in my free time (that's the running joke lately) I'll have to do an all-poetry challenge. **

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy this sappy little love poem. Gotta love the sap. Read and review, loves!**

_Poetry on the Beach: 2nd person Booth_

There was a time you could have waited,

Held back from the anticipated.

But here and now, that will was gone

And hesitation now withdrawn.

The sun was shining much too bright;

The waves, hypnotic, catch the light.

Your fingertips upon her skin

Trembled with fear of giving in.

Your friend, your partner, only this,

You told yourself beneath the kiss.

Sand warm underneath your toes

The passion 'twixt you only grows.

The heat inside you now belies

That cool and distant scared disguise

Which kept you from this time and place

And this inevitable embrace.

The crashing waves drown out your moans;

Future feelings now unknown,

Swept away across the beach,

The truth about you within reach.

Your bodies are straining, your hearts are full

As you cross the lines and break the rules,

A paradise of hands and lips

And flowing water and sailing ships.

And you find that you are swept away

No thoughts to think or words to say.

Your body sated, your heart, it soars—

And from this moment on, you'll always need more.


	11. Romance in a Hotel

**A/N: The hat says it's time for romance again already! A little soon, but I'm not complaining. Love all that fluffy, smutty stuff. And it gets me all revved up for what is guaranteed to be a super-hot season 3. Right?**

**Of course;-) Read & review, my lovely, smutty-minded friends!**

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_Romance in a Hotel: 3rd Person_

The keycard made a _whisking _sound as she pushed it in…hesitated…and pulled it out. She had hesitated _too _long, however, so it didn't work that first time. The little light above the doorknob blinked red. She closed her eyes and drew in a long breath, before trying again. This time, she moved the card faster through the slot. The light flashed green…approved. For some reason, it seemed like she had barely enough strength in her hand to push down the handle and open the door; but, with effort, it swung open. Silently. Invitingly. As if sleepwalking, she glided across the room. It would appear that she was the only one here, although she doubted that were true. She came to rest beside the impeccably-made king-sized bed, the centerpiece of the room, the only piece of furniture of note. There, in the center of the bed, was a rose. Really, what was going to become a rose; now, it was a closed bud, tightly guarding the secret of the full redness it would become, given another day or two. Somehow, knowing her partner, this was in some way symbolic.

She didn't entirely understand why it was here and now that this chain of events was unfolding. The situation was unremarkable, not unlike those they had experienced dozens of times before. They were on assignment, away from their homes. They wrapped the case up a day early; a pleasant surprise, but not entirely unexpected. The two partners were good at their jobs. This had happened before. They always had packed up, found an earlier flight, and gone home. She had always been grateful to go home, back to her lab. Back to her safe little world.

But this time, something had possessed her to suggest they stay. Their hotel rooms were paid through the night, courtesy of the F.B.I.. They had never been in this city before, and it was famous for its culture, its nightlife. No one knew them here—they could be anybody. They should take advantage of their found night. She remembered the look of amazed pleasure that crossed his face at her proposition—his by-the-books partner suggesting that they do something out-of-the-ordinary, just for fun.

They went out to eat at the hotel's fancy restaurant, that served regional specialties and fine wine—a luxury that required a shopping run before-hand because they didn't have clothes nice enough for the occasion. She felt a little silly, engaging in this frivolity, but when she slipped on that silky dress, she suddenly understood why Angela said new clothes could transform you. The embarrassingly long time she took to dress and do her hair was all made worth it when he picked her up at her room and looked at her like she was the only woman on Earth. And he didn't look half-bad, himself.

During the meal, they laughed, and talked about everything but work. It should have felt strange, but it didn't. It felt light, and it felt good. As the night drew to a close, they were both feeling warm from the wine and the pleasure of each other's company. He asked her to dance. She accepted, and it had been far too easy to transition from taking his hand, to resting her head on his shoulder, to wrapping her arms around him on the dance floor. Her thoughts, thankfully, hung in suspension, never pushing her to question what was happening, or panic. They were the last two people on the dance floor—then the last two people in the restaurant. The music ended, and they reluctantly pulled apart, staring at each other with curiosity and wonder. He took her hand, faced her palm upwards. She looked down when she felt the cool plastic touch her hand. His extra room key. "If you want," he whispered, closing her fingers around it with his own. With one last look, he turned and left, leaving her stunned and amazed.

She didn't remember how long she stood there, or her journey up the stairs, to the floor his room was on. It wasn't a decision she had made to go there; her feet seemed to be operating under their own volition. And now, as she stood gazing at that rosebud on the bed, it struck her that whatever had happened that night was apparently not unexpected. Because right now she didn't feel afraid at all.

She felt a sudden sense of warmth at her back, and knew immediately it was him. A shiver went through her at the breath on the back of her neck, where her hair was pulled up. Her eyes closed.

"I'm glad you came." His voice was low, husky, and it set off a vibrating sensation deep within her body. She swayed backwards a little bit and felt his lips brush against her ear.

"Did you really think I might not?"

"Sometimes you surprise me, Bones." His hands grazed her hips, slid over the silky material there. He pulled her back a little closer, her back on his chest, her hips against his. Even closer than when they were dancing. The heat pouring off of him nearly burned her. Taking a shaky breath, she turned in his arms, facing him. He was still dressed in his suit, although his jacket was off.

"You've been surprising me ever since we met." Her eyes drank in his face, every angle and curve, and he appeared to be equally involved in studying her. She let him. She had nothing to hide anymore.

The intensity behind his eyes inflamed her. She had been anticipating this, and could barely wait, but still she stayed still. "I want to kiss you," he told her, simply. Honestly.

Well, she certainly wasn't going to make him beg. Not for something they both wanted so badly, for so long. She pressed herself against him, their faces too close now to turn back, or pretend that their intent was anything other than to kiss. His nose touched hers, teasingly. A small smile came to his lips before he closed that remaining half-inch between them. This first kiss was simple, light. But it caused her heart to jackhammer almost painfully in her chest. Her excitement ascended to a level rarely reached by hours of extended foreplay, let alone a single kiss. She would have felt ridiculous if she hadn't sensed a responding fervor of his own. When he pulled his mouth from hers, he was breathing as heavily as she was. "God I've been wanting you," he gasped, his forehead falling to hers. Everything in her gave a thrill at his words.

"Here I am," she whispered. In response, he pulled her lips back to his, more forcefully this time, making her taste into his taste and her mouth indistinguishable from his own. Still, she could tell he was holding back; his hands not moving quite as feverishly as his lips on her. She wanted—_needed_—those hands hard against her, pleasing her, but right now they stayed behind her, playing with the zipper on the back of her dress. She couldn't take this torture anymore.

"Take it off," she choked out, and in her desperation her request sounded more like a demand. He moaned against her mouth, apparently turned on by her words.

"I want to take my time with you," he murmured, shaking with the effort it was taking to keep from stripping her down and ravishing her.

"Next time." Her voice left no room for argument. With a long sigh, he complied, kissing her deeply while he drew down the zipper. It ended at the small of her back, and his finger dipped inside there, stroking her sensitive skin. Eager to see the part of her that he exposed, he slipped her around in his arms so she was facing away from him. She was pleased by his hum of appreciation as he spread the material, eyes trailing down her mostly bare shoulders and back. He slipped the straps down and the flimsy material fell of her body easily, landing in a silky puddle on the floor around her feet. She inhaled sharply at the cool air on her skin.

He ran his hands down the outline of her, gazing up and down before turning her around. "I always knew that the parts of you I couldn't see would be as gorgeous as the parts I could." Her fair skin couldn't hide the blush that came over her at his words. Becoming impatient, she pulled him towards her, encouraging him to touch her while she worked on removing his own clothes. She was a little frustrated by his unwillingness to stay upright to let her unbutton his shirt, but was quickly distracted from this irritation when he kneeled in front of her and began kissing her thighs and hips and belly. Her legs felt weak, and he seemed to empathize with this. Gently guiding her backwards, he sat her on the edge of the bed while she watched him wide-eyed. With a hand on her shoulder, he urged her to lie back, and she did so slowly, with anticipation, finding her head resting beside the rose he had somehow found for them. "What are you thinking about?" he whispered. His fingers found the clasp on the front of her bra, played with it for a second before opening it.

She was trembling. "How good this feels." She moaned as his head dipped and he circled her nipples with his tongue, finally flicking right on them and making the skin harden. His mouth trailed lower. "What are you thinking about?" she asked him with effort, her eyes flying open when he tugged at her panties.

"How delicious you smell. And how much I'm looking forward to tasting you." She almost came right at that moment, before he even touched that throbbing part of her that was so near his lips right now

"Booth." She hardly recognized her voice as he began kissing the inside of her thighs, making them quiver. "I'm not sure how long I can wait for you."

"Good. Because I can't wait anymore either." His tongue thrust inside of her then, without warning, and she almost screamed as he desperately tried to absorb as much of her taste as he could.

"Jesus, Booth," she moaned, arching upwards and pressing herself against his welcome invading tongue, jumping again when his fingers joined this wetness and moved up to caress her clit while his mouth did the most amazing things to her pulsing entrance. He was moaning against her like it was him who was being pleasured. His fingers and tongue then switched positions, and she suddenly worried she would pass out and miss this experience. She was begging him, not certain for what, but he seemed to understand and reluctantly remove his face from her, coming up to straddle her. While her brain seemed to have stopped working awhile ago, her fingers remembered what to do and they pulled at his clothes while he helped her. When he was finally naked above her, her thought of not being able to be turned on any more than she already was evaporated. She was out of her mind with lust and emotion right now, and while it might embarrass her later how loudly she demanded more from him, right now it seemed the only thing to do.

He slid overtop of her, poised to enter her. "Just so you know…once we start this I'm not sure I'll be able to stop."

"Don't you dare stop. Ever." Fingers in his hair, she pulled him down to kiss her as she thrust upwards. He met her. They cried out with both relief and further need. This time, there could be no slow build-up, because the build-up had been taking place over the night and the week and the past two years, and there wasn't anywhere else for it to go. It didn't take long before their bodies were moving frantically. He had been right. He was unable to stop. The end of the world couldn't have stopped him. The feel of him pounding into her triggered rapid-fire climaxes inside of her that left her breathless.

She heard his own "Yes's" falling from his lips, and she eagerly tried to pull from him the pleasure he had given to her.

"That's right. Just like that," she encouraged, gasping, loving everything about him and what he was doing to her. Later, too, she would remember that thought and it would haunt her. Her words made him lose control, and now "Yes" was coming from both of them, again and again.

The bed was big. Once this explosion had passed, they rolled over and began again. And again. Making sure every inch of space was being taken advantage of for this new, exciting part of their lives.

This night would pass. They would have to abandon this indulgent evening in favor of their real lives. But there was no denying that what had happened in this faraway hotel, separate from the world that they were used to, was as real as anything else they had ever experienced. And it couldn't _not _happen again.

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**A/N: So speaking of smut…my bestest fanfic friend in the world KinseyJo writes it fabulously. She had been contributing her talents over at the Law & Order SVU site, but is now as hot for DB as the rest of us and will be burning up a computer screen near you. So check out her brandnew Bones stuff…even the non-smut is deliciously fluffy and worth several read-overs. Tell her SSJL sent you. And then tell her to send SSJL more pics of DB hotness;-)**


	12. Drama in a Graveyard

**A/N: Wow, this was a hard one to get through…just haven't been in an angsty mood lately. Which I suppose is a good thing, for me! But it makes it hard to write smangst.**

**Wasn't last night's epi just the cutest thing? They just keep getting more and more swoony. Love them.**

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_**Drama in a Graveyard: 1**__**st**__** Person Brennan**_

"Are you going to be okay, Sweetie?"

I hugged my friend tightly. "I'm going to be fine, Ange. This is a rough time, for sure. But how could I not be alright when I have all of you around me?" I pulled back and smiled at my friends, trying to look brave for the people who circled me and looked at me with sympathy.

"Dr. Brennan…I'd certainly understand if you were to take the rest of the week off," Dr. Camille Saroyan told me. "A death in the family is always traumatic, regardless of the circumstances. You should take some time to take care of yourself."

"Thanks, Cam." I let out a shaky breath. "But honestly, it would be more traumatic for me _not _to work. It's too much to think about all of this right now…it's better if I keep busy.'

"Just remember that we are all here for you, if you need us." Angela squeezed my hand, and I smiled at her gratefully. She was such a good friend. "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"No, it's okay. I think I'm going to stay here for awhile. I know my father isn't truly…here. But being here makes me feel closer to him. You go home." I gazed over at the headstone that bore my father's name: Max Keenan. A tear fell from my eye, and I wiped it away.

"Okay, Sweetie. You have a ride then?"

Booth spoke up. "I'll make sure Bones gets back. You guys go ahead."

Angela nodded, and gave me one last hug. "We all love you," she whispered. "Don't forget that." We separated, and my colleagues said their farewells and left the cemetery, leaving me alone there with the headstone. And Booth.

I slowly walked over to a nearby bench, and sat, feeling sad and thoughtful. Booth sat beside me, and we were silent, hearing only the beginning sounds of crickets chirping that marked the dusk. Finally, he spoke to me. "How are you feeling?"

I wasn't entirely sure how to answer him for a moment; there were so many feelings coursing through me that it was hard to capture one and put it into words. Eventually, I looked up at him. "I hate lying to them," I whispered.

"I know. Me too." He looked down at his hands, his shame obvious. "But you understand why we have to do it, right?"

"Of course. I wouldn't do it otherwise. I just…I just wish it could be different."

He nodded. "Understood." He reached out, took my hand, and we sat quietly, both lost in thoughts of how, exactly, it had come to this end, and why we had to live this lie.

Max Keenan, my father, lived a complicated life. He did things that, in many ways, I find inexcusable. But even Booth recognized that my father aimed for bad guys when he struck out, and that made a difference for him. It didn't really make a difference to me until later. When I realized that whatever he had done, he didn't deserve to _die _for it.

But he had enemies in high places, higher than Booth or I ever thought possible. And when my father went on trial…even though it shouldn't have even been a _possibility…_he got the death penalty, set up by criminals far worse than him for terrible crimes that he never could have committed. The justice system had failed. We all knew it. But nobody could change that outcome.

Except Booth. He tried everything else first, tried to make known the gross miscarriage of justice that had occurred, tried to fix it the right way. It didn't work. I didn't want to make this his responsibility, because it wasn't. But when he came to my apartment that night a few months ago and told me, his face full of anguish, that he had failed and my father was going to be put to death after all, I had broken down, begged him to think of something, _anything. _And by the time he left, we had agreed to take drastic measures.

It was some bribed prison and law enforcement officials who agreed that Max Keenan had committed suicide in his cell, the night before he was schedule to be put to death. It was some of dad's criminal friends who helped spirit him out of jail that night. And it was Booth who signed off on it, and arranged for my father to live under another identity in another country. He put everything in his life at stake to save my father. And me. And now, it was we who had to shoulder the burden of this charade.

I looked at the grave, which only we knew was empty, then up at him. "Do you think I'll ever be able to see him again?"

He nodded. "Maybe, someday. A couple years down the road, when any suspicion has died down. But now…"

"It's just not safe," I finished. It hurt, badly. But not as bad as my father having been put to death. "Booth…" I began.

"You don't have to say it, Temperance," he told me, stroking the back of my palm with his thumb absently. He looked lost in his thoughts.

"I know. I've said it all before. But before we never talk about this again…I just need to thank you again. What you did…I…I just never had a friend like you before. Thank you."

I could see the struggle in his face…he wanted to tell me that the only reason he did what he did was because it was the lesser of evils, the closest thing to 'right' he could come up with. But that wasn't entirely true, and we both knew it. "You're welcome, Bones," he said simply, and he put his arm around me. I rested there against him, soaking up the strength that radiated from his body. Despite the fact that he must have a hurricane of doubt and misgivings about all of this, he never once made me feel guilty, never once was anything other than reassuring and supportive. Nobody else had ever made me feel this cared for. Nobody else had ever made me feel this safe. At this moment, I realized that he loved me.

He caught me looking at him, saw the change in my face that came from this epiphany and the awe I felt of everything he had done for me. He had been found out, and I think he knew it. One of my hands, trembling now, went to his cheek. "Bones," he said softly, reading my intention. "You don't owe me anything."

"I owe you everything," I whispered back honestly. "But that's not why I'm doing this." Why _was_ I doing this? I hadn't known myself. All I knew is that he was the only man who I ever trusted with all my heart. And I wanted to kiss him, so I did.

I hadn't ever felt lips that were so soft and strong at the same time. He didn't take control of the kiss, but he met me each step of the way. My pulse was pounding in my throat, and my whole face tingled as his mouth brushed against mine. His hand touched my own face and his fingers were trembling; underneath my awe I felt a surge of satisfaction at this. He wanted me too. I pulled away just a little, to give him an opportunity to speak if he felt the need. He did.

"I'd do anything for you, Bones. You mean so much," he whispered, and his words were almost too much for my heart to bear. I kissed him urgently now, my hands sliding under his jacket trying unsuccessfully to get close enough to him. He seemed to sense my frustration, and matched it with his own, his hands sliding down the sides of my body and ending at my bottom. A thrill went through me at the intimate touch, and without hesitation I followed his urging, swinging around to straddle him on the bench, caring little about where we were right now. The graveyard was empty, dark, and quiet. This was hardly the place that I had imagined him touching me this way, making my heart pump fast with his kiss. But now it didn't matter, because I was feeling so out of my mind with emotion for him that the world had shrunken to this one spot, on this bench.

Something had ended today. But now something was beginning, and I needed it more than I could admit before now. I could feel his hands run over my waist, under my shirt, yearning to feel me, and I wanted that touch right now more than anything. Pushing reluctance aside, both mine and his, I breathed into his mouth, "Touch me."

His eyes met mine and I felt like I was swimming in them. "You sure? I wanted something better for you…"

"There's nothing better. There's only us."

Accepting this, he moaned lightly against my neck as his fingers trailed up my torso to the sides of my breasts, where he caressed me. Everything in me reacted immediately, and I pushed down against him, my eyes losing focus. He was already hard, I could feel it, but he became even more so as I increased the pressure against his lap, kissing him desperately, loving the feeling of him responding to me. I wanted him to feel my gratitude through my body, and my trust. Not to mention the other thing…the lust that was rapidly coming to a crescendo inside of me while he stroked my hard nipples through my bra with one hand and pulled at my back with the other to bring our bodies in as close of contact as possible.

"Bones…I want…"

"I know." I knew what he wanted…he wanted for us to be somewhere beautiful for this, somewhere that we could really spend time, exploring each other, again and again. But this is what we were given right now, and it was impossible to stop. "I need you now."

He didn't question me anymore, just pushed up the hem of my long skirt, reached underneath, and oh my God nobody's hands have ever felt like that against me, been that gentle and demanding at the same time. I nearly cried with relief at finally being touched like this by him, and I forgot everything else for a moment: all the secrets and lies, the second loss of my father, the empty grave behind us. It all dwindled to nothing, and nothing was important right now as having my partner inside of me.

Suddenly, it was so, and the heat of his hand was replaced by a new feeling, something warm and wet and wonderful and I accepted this part of him without reservation. The growl in his throat lit a fire in me, and I moved against him, setting the pace but trying to give as much as I was taking. I contracted around him, increasing both of our pleasure, while I murmured words of thanks against his lips. Thanks for his part in saving my father…thanks for giving himself to me in the way he had, and the way he was…thanks for his love, which I felt pouring off of him in waves. My craving for him grew; he sensed it and pulled me towards him, hard.

We couldn't be quiet anymore, and someone visiting this place on this night might have mistaken our cries for those of lonely spirits, lost. Strange how now, being lost sounded so much like being found. I came, with my body and lips pressed against him, and again felt like our strengths were combining to make something bigger and better than either of us could be alone. He said my name, my given name, as he gave me everything inside of him. We shuddered with relief, love, and a shared anguish.

Whatever this did or didn't change, he was to be my family now, the one who I depended on, and who depended on me. We would hold our secret as sacred as we held each other. Someday, I might have my father again. Until then, I would hold on to the only person with whom I shared everything. And now, there was one less lie between us.


	13. Comfort in the Kitchen

**A/N: You know what I just realized? Drama, angst, and hurt/comfort are all **_**practically the same genre. **_**Wow! Really subtle differences there.**

**Since in our last comfort chapter, we had Brennan comforting Booth, decided to turn it around this time. I just love strong, protective, comforting Booth. Sigh.**

**You should probably review. It's the right thing to do;-)**

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_Hurt/Comfort in the Kitchen: 3__rd__ Person_

He couldn't keep his cool when she cried. He knew that she was strong, that she could take care of herself, easily. Hell, he was probably the person who antagonized her the most, caused her the most grief, because he knew she could handle it. But the second he saw tears well in those crystalline blue eyes, while her skin tinged pink and her lower lip trembled ever so slightly, he was instantly on the defense, wanting to shelter her while simultaneously kicking the ass of whoever or whatever he perceived to have done her wrong. It was likely she had no idea how powerful her tears actually were, or else she probably would have spent longer trying to repress them. As it was, she already had put up a valiant effort, trying to distract herself and him with small talk and the offer of making coffee.

But when he followed her into the kitchen and gently touched her shoulder when she turned away from him to grab the coffee pot, it seemed to unleash something inside of her. Her head tipped forward and for a second, he thought she was going to pull away from him. But when a quiet sob left her lips, she followed easily when he turned her in his arms and pulled her to him tightly.

"I just didn't belong there," she whispered, in a quivering voice.

"It'll take some time, Bones," he told her, trying to sound soothing. But meanwhile, his blood was boiling. He actually, begrudgingly, liked Max Keenan. But right now, he could have punched him in the face without a second thought. It was because of _his _actions that Bones was experiencing this painful readjustment, this realization of what might have been, had she remained a part of her family through her childhood and into adulthood.

She had finally met the rest of her family…her mother's sisters, and their husbands, and their children. Max had urged her to, wanted her to reconnect with the people that shared her blood. But the experience had been awkward for her, rather than healing…she felt so far removed from their lifestyle and their experiences, and they had been embarrassed by the circumstances that had separated Temperance from their family so many years ago. Although she never would have admitted it aloud or to herself, she had to have hoped that this would be the moment when she finally felt that fit, that sense of belonging that came from really being a part of a family. When it didn't happen that way…yeah, punching Max in the face would be too good for him right now.

He felt her squirming in his arms a little, and he knew that she was feeling ashamed of this show of vulnerability. Reluctantly, he released her, although he kept his hands on her upper arms, squeezing gently.

"I'm sorry," she told him, not quite meeting his eyes. "I'm just a little tired…making this more of an issue than it needs to be."

"Hey. Don't ever apologize for your feelings, or dismiss them. They're as valuable and important as anything else about you. And that's pretty damn valuable."

She trembled a little bit. "Thanks, Booth. It's okay, though. I'm used to being alone, so this isn't come sort of catastrophe. It's just…life."

"Just give it awhile. They're going to love you. These things don't happen right away."

"It doesn't have to happen."

"It _will _happen."

"I don't need it."

"Everybody needs love."

Her eyes were everywhere but on him. "I'll be fine."

"Damn it, Bones." She finally looked right at him, surprised. "Would you please just let me hold you? _Please?_"

Mostly because she was stunned at his forcefulness, she allowed herself to be enclosed in his arms again. This time, he put more of himself into that hug, rubbing her back and stroking her hair, while murmuring comforting words in her ear. As that unfamiliar empathy flowed out of him and into her, it set off her tears again and she let them flow, wetting the material of his t-shirt at his shoulder while she rested her cheek there. She clung to him, even after her sobs subsided into sniffles.

"People don't always click right away, Bones," he told her softly. "Look at you and me. We didn't even get along at first. And now…"

She pulled away slightly, her tear-stained face regarding him curiously. "And now…?"

He realized he didn't quite know how to finish that sentence, so he simply smiled at her, pulled her face close, and kissed her forehead. Her skin felt warm and smooth under his lips, and when he pulled back he found himself missing that feeling. He drew her to him again, this time kissing her cheek, lingering there for a second. Her tears, not yet dry, tasted salty on his lips. When he again retreated, he found her clear, wide-eyed gaze to be almost too much to bear, so he dropped his lips to her other cheek.

This was a dangerous game they were playing, and although they both knew that, it felt too good to stop. For the first time since she had that tense encounter with her unfamiliar family, she felt secure here in his arms. His face hovered in front of hers, and her breath caught. Time seemed to still for a moment.

"Booth," she whispered.

"I don't want to do anything that's going to hurt you more, Bones."

She shook her head. "It hurts less, right now. But I don't want you feeling sorry for me."

His fingers were threading around strands of her silky hair, pushing it behind her ears. The air was thick now with this barely-acknowledged longing, to which they were edging ever closer to admitting.

"I want to make you feel good. But it has nothing to do with feeling sorry for you."

She gulped hard, and was surprised to feel something solid hit the backs of her thighs. Without even realizing it, they had been edging ever closer to the kitchen table, and now she was right up against it. Instinctively, his hands went to her hips and he lifted her so that she was perching on the table. And that was it; up until that point, they might have been able to convince one another and themselves that what was transpiring was simply one friend comforting another, an intimacy derived from the closeness they had developed as partners. But when he lifted her, and they were pressed together with their lips a mere inch apart and their breathing suddenly audible and erratic, it would have taken a fairly strong dose of denial to not own up to what was happening.

He noticed her nod, almost imperceptibly—later, he might wonder if he read that correctly. But at that moment, he took the gesture as confirmation to go ahead with what they both wanted. His hands fell to the edge of the table to either side of her thighs. He leaned forward, into her. Their lips touched, tentatively. Her lips were warm, and impossibly sweet. He pulled back a little. "Bones."

Her answer was in grabbing his head and yanking his lips to hers again greedily. The force of that pull very nearly caused her to fall backwards onto the table with him on top of her, but he caught himself with his hands again. He moaned at the sensation of this harder kiss, a low, vibrating sound, and she took the opportunity to thrust her tongue into his open mouth. They were both soon gasping, and his hands went to her hips. She wrapped her legs around his ass.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked her, praying to God for a little self-control because if she said no, he wasn't entirely sure just how he'd be able to hold himself back from these candy kisses.

"Make me feel good, Booth," she responded firmly, and her tongue was tangling with his again. Before that kiss was over, he swore to himself that he would die before letting her go away _not _feeling good.

In pulling off their clothes, they got in each other's way a little bit, neither willing to stop for a moment before being as close as they could get. It may have occurred to one or the other of them that they could probably do this in the bedroom…but that would require taking a break from this heated encounter. It was impossible.

When she was naked, he did take a break, however, because he just had to look at what he was about to put his mouth on. He ran his fingertips around the contours of her. She spoke up. "Am I…" Stopping then, blushing, realizing that what she was about to say was about to make her seem much more insecure than she was. But she so wanted to know…

"You're perfect, Bones," he whispered, reading her mind in that infuriating way he did. He dropped kisses onto her neck and shoulders and chest, while she leaned back on the table, bracing herself with her hands. "You're beautiful. In every way. Anybody who really knew you would love you."

Her eyes widened at this, and she started to respond but found she couldn't when he pulled up a chair directly in front her and sat, nestled firmly between her legs, looking at her like she had prepared him a succulent feast that he was about to devour. He nuzzled her thighs and all she could do was lie back on the table and tremble helplessly in anticipation. His gentle kisses came closer to her most tender areas, barely touching her but creating the most delicious sensations that coursed through her. Using just his lips at the moment, he pulled carefully at her clit. She gasped and arched practically up off the table. Finding he enjoyed that response, he continued this treatment for awhile, teasing her slowly until her hands, urgently taking fistfuls of his hair, told him that he had been successful at driving her crazy and making her feel, right now, like she was the most important person in the world. He wanted to kiss her like this for hours. But there was more to be done…he needed to be closer to her, show her just how incredibly special she was. Standing, he kissed his way up her body, and as soon as he got within arms reach she was touching him all over, holding him to her.

"Booth," she whispered. "I feel…" her words trailed off and she pressed her lips to his again, but he wanted to hear what she was going to say.

"What?"

"I feel like I belong here."

And of all the feelings he had wanted to give her, that one was at the top of his list.

"You do. _We _do." He pressed his hardness against her and she undulated against him, encouraging him. When he slipped inside her, it was like a homecoming. Leaning forward, he kissed her softly, briefly, before rising back up, holding her hips, and watching her face intently while he pulled her and thrust inside her. The pleasure he saw there made his heart expand almost painfully, and he felt (among other things) a surge of gratitude the he was the one to give this to her. He was so engrossed that the intensity of his own impending explosion came almost as a shock. How did he get to this place so quickly?

As if reading his mind, she reached for him and tugged him down to her again, the table shaking a little with the joined weight of their bodies and the quickening pace of their movements. Another kiss was all it took, and they shattered together with a shuddering sigh against each other's mouths. Their lips stayed joined, even after the laws of physiology made the rest of them part. When he pulled back, it was to tell her, "You're far too amazing ever to be alone, Temperance."

For the first time since her disappointing meeting with the people that she hoped she would eventually love, and would love her, she looked convinced. "I don't feel alone."

He smiled at her, kissed her tenderly. While he couldn't promise her a happy family with her newfound relatives, he could promise that whatever came next, they'd face it together. And no matter what happened, he'd be there to catch her tears.


	14. Angst in a Pool

**A/N: Alright…my bffff Kinsikins requested some angry sex. And since I basically deny her nothing (you spoiled brat, Kins:), here it is.**

**Does anybody else feel like if they were Bren, they'd constantly be provoking Booth just to get this particular reaction out of him? I myself would be guilty as charged.**

**Keep leaving those yummy reviews, peeps!**

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_Angst in a Pool: 2nd Person Brennan_

He was there, just like you knew he would be, alone and swimming laps furiously at an ungodly hour of the night in the Olympic-sized swimming pool belonging to the F.B.I. building. You knew he saw you on his last return lap, but he pulled away again with a glare, swimming the length back and forth once more. Rolling your eyes, you waited for him, trying to be patient. When he got back to the starting point, he made as if to pull away again, so you gave in and shouted his name. Grudgingly, he stopped, shaking the water out of his hair as he looked up at you. "Yeah."

Well, at least he was talking to you. That was a start. "You haven't been returning my phone calls."

He waded in the shallow end of the pool, leaning back into the water. "Yeah," he said again, with the 'Get a hint' being implied in his challenging tone.

"Don't you think this is a little ridiculous?" you asked exasperatedly, crossing your arms. "You're just not going to talk to me now."

"Apparently, we don't have anything to talk about, Bones." He started to backstroke away, before you even had a chance to respond.

You shouted so that he could hear you, your voice echoing in the room. "All we did was kiss, Booth." He stopped mid-stroke, but didn't look at you. "It's not like we're a couple or anything. I don't understand why you're acting like this." It was true; you were as confused by him as you had ever been by anybody. Tiring of towering over him, you carefully removed your shoes, and pushed your skirt above your knees so that you could sit in a dry spot at the edge of the pool. Dipping your toes in tentatively, you found the water to be invitingly warm, so you eased your legs in, dangling them.

He was still paused several feet away from you, looking irritated. "If I recall, it wasn't just 'a kiss.' We've been kissing for awhile now. Many, many times."

Your lips tingled at the memory, and you struggled to keep your mind on the right track. "Yes, Booth. I'm aware of that. But if _I _recall, we decided that it was a mistake. That we've just been spending too much time together, and things got too…intense." You tried to remember whether those were his words or yours, then decided it didn't matter—you had both agreed on them. Every time it happened.

Glaring at you, he swam a little closer, and you had the sudden absurd thought that he was going to pull you in. Reflexively, you pulled your legs back a little. He noticed the motion and shook his head disbelievingly. "So because of that, you just decided to get yourself a replacement boyfriend?"

Now you were kind of pissed off. "You can't have a replacement boyfriend when you never had a real boyfriend to begin with." You thought you saw a flash of something in his eyes before the anger took hold again. Sighing, you tried to be more polite. "Look, I've obviously done something to upset you, and I feel badly about that. But I'm not sorry about going out with another man when I am _single. _And I'm very perplexed as to why you are suddenly playing the role of the jealous boyfriend."

He stared for a second and then, before you knew it, he was practically in your face, his hands slapping on the ground to either side of your thighs. Droplets of water hit your upper legs, and you shivered despite the warmth of it. "You know, Bones, I'm glad it's so easy for you to keep everything separate in your head. But for me, it's just a little upsetting when your tongue is down my throat one day, and the next I see you with some other guy's hands all over you. In fact, it pisses me the hell off. So don't act all confused about why I'm not talking to you when you've been doing this fucking hot/cold tease routine for a week now."

Oh no he _didn't. _Heat flared inside of you. "_First _of all," you hissed, "nobody's hands were all over me. You just happened to see him give me a hug and kiss on the cheek as he was _leaving. _Not that it would be any of your business even if he and I were having sex right there in the diner." That was going a little far, but right now, if you were honest with yourself, you wanted to hurt him. "Secondly, don't you dare swear at me and call me a tease. You're the one who started this whole thing."

"I might have kissed you that first time. But I apologized. And after that, it was all you."

You felt a little shame and guilt mixed with your anger. "It takes two, Booth."

"Exactly. And yet you sit here, pretending that I was alone in it. That you had every right just to forget about what was going on with us and go out with some asshole. Pretending we didn't belong to each other the second I put my lips on you." He was leaning in so close he was dripping on you now, the water falling off of his heaving chest onto your lap and his breath even more humid than the air against your face. You felt inexplicable tears spring to your eyes, and were nearly choked with fury at him for making you want to cry.

"We are _not _together," you said, emphasizing every word. But even as you said it, you didn't stop him when he put his wet hands against the bare insides of your thighs and ran them up past the hem of your skirt.

"Wrong, Temperance," he said softly. You hated him so much.

"We do _not _belong to each other," you insisted, shakily, as your trembling hands found their way to his bare shoulders and clutched there, desperately.

"Wrong again." Now he was wedged firmly between your legs, and against all the logic that was screaming at you to stop this before you fucked up your partnership beyond all repair, you were spreading them as far as your skirt would allow, begging for the dampness of his touch. Was that his dampness, or yours? You didn't know anymore. His hand hovered, not giving you the satisfaction that you ached for. His thumbs caressed your legs, maddeningly.

"I needed to forget, damn you," you told him, and you hated the pathetic neediness you heard in your own voice, the anguish at admitting just how much his kisses had affected you.

"Forget?" His eyes shone with a disturbing mixture of both heat and coldness, and you found yourself shaking violently with the force of both of your emotions. "There's no way you're gonna forget this, Bones. You're gonna remember it every morning when you wake up. You're gonna remember it whenever you touch yourself. And you're gonna remember it even when you're asleep because it's going to be the most incredible thing we've ever felt in our whole damned lives."

Maybe this time you should have been expecting it, but you were still surprised when his hands circled your ass and yanked you to him, half-plunging you into the water while his lips sucked at yours like they were giving him life. You opened your mouth to scream your indignation at him for being pulled into the swimming pool fully-dressed, without warning, but once your lips parted all you could do was absorb the sweet, hot sensation of his mouth on yours—the sensation that made you come back a dozen times this week, even after promising yourself each time that it would be the last. Just one more taste, one more shot of that delicious rush that come from having his body against yours. It was the epitome of self-delusion to think it could end there.

He was pressing you hard up against the side of the pool, now kissing your neck while the water soaked your blouse, making it practically transparent. Your nipples pressed through the fabric almost obscenely, and he leaned over and bit one gently. You groaned, and it was your turn to surprise him when you boldly caressed him through his swimsuit. Take that, you cocky bastard, you thought triumphantly while he jerked against your hand and ground against it. That's what he got for driving you crazy with his words and his lips and his body. He quickly retaliated by pushing up your skirt as high as it would go under the water and pressing that impressive bulge right up against your sex, through your literally soaked panties. "Tell me you don't want me," he rasped, grabbing your hand and putting it against the hardness of his chest, where it (infuriatingly) began to move with its own volition across his body. "I dare you to say you don't want me."

You felt taunted by his words, even though you recognized his pleading tone. You couldn't lie to him, but you just couldn't find it in you to be nice to him right now, either. "Shut up and fuck me, Booth," you gasped, catching your fingers in his suit and pulling it down over his hips, exposing him. Your wet clothes felt far too cumbersome, and you fought against them, trying to move them aside. It was difficult with his hands running over you. You were aroused enough, and didn't need that extra stimulation, so it seemed only like he was trying to mock you with your own desire. Defiantly, you used the buoyancy of the water to lift you up and wrap your legs around him firmly. He was inside you before he even knew it was happening, and you were gratified by his long groan of surprise. Gripping your ass with one hand and the edge of the pool with the other, his first thrust seemed to be instinctual, rather than an action intended to bring both of you pleasure. But, that was the effect it had. You screamed, the sound echoing. The water churned violently around you while you moved against one another hard.

How did you get here? How did you get from stolen kisses in your office to this hard, passionate coupling immersed in this pool? Right now it seemed so unbelievable, and all you could do was moan and curse helplessly while he claimed you, driving you to maddeningly powerful orgasm that no man should be able to create by being so damn possessive and jealous. And by the sounds of it, he was close as well.

You were straining against one another. "Look what you made me do, Bones," he groaned in your ear. "I wanted to give you champagne and candlelight. But God you make me so crazy…"

If you weren't about to come, you would have laughed. "There's nothing about us that's champagne and candlelight, Booth. Now make me come…"

And he did, and as he had promised, you'd be remembering it for a good long while, reminded by the ringing in your ears and the bursts of light dancing in front of your eyes and the echo of both of your cries that lingered and seemingly burned right into your cortex. You created a whirlpool together, unable to stop until you were both exhausted. And only then, floating weakened in your own waves, did you stop to think about how ridiculous this scene must look. Never before had you felt such a mix of anger, lust, humiliation, and awe at the power another human being had over you.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, a little guiltily, against your ear.

"So this is what I have to do to get you to talk to me?" you asked him, still feeling a little mean, despite the lingering twitches in your joined bodies.

"So this is what I have to do to get you to admit we belong together?"

"I didn't admit that."

He pulled back from you slightly. "Do I have to do it again?"

You thought about it. "Maybe."

And with that, you set to work provoking him once more.


	15. Friendship in a Cave

**A/N: Friendship? In a cave? Oh, hat, you have such a sense of humor. Love you:)**

**Actually, it seems fitting though, after last night's epi, and the clearness of just how much their friendship is growing. They just like each other so much, and it's **_**so cute. **_**I tried to capture those feelings here.**

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_Friendship in a Cave: 1__st__ Person Booth_

"So explain to me again how this is supposed to make me feel better?" she asked me, her skeptical face looking a little comical under her helmet while I secured the lines that would hold us as we rappelled down into the cave. I tightened the rope firmly around her waist, snug enough that an "oomph" came out of her while her breath was expelled. Couldn't have her getting away from me.

"Caving, Bones. Good exercise, new discoveries, natural wonder…you can't get better than this. The further underground we get, the further away your worries will be."

"I'm not worried."

"Okay, then, your disappointments."

"I'm not _that _disappointed."

"Alright," I said, exasperated. "Then the further underground we get, the happier you'll feel about keeping _me _company." My hands roamed over the cables that would be supporting her body, testing their strength, even as she was walking away from me toward the pitch into the cave.

In some ways Bones was hard to read, but right now, she was as transparent as cellophane. She had been thought a shoo-in for a prestigious award given for research by the National Academy of Forensic Sciences; an award that came with a sizable grant. Now, Bones didn't need the money, or another award. But she had been expecting to win, and when a new scientist's groundbreaking research had been chosen instead, I could read that patented Bones pout from a mile away. Her little feelings were hurt, because she worked _hard _on her stuff. And as amusing as I found her nearly imperceptible, but _there _show of insecurity, my next urge was to take her mind off of it. So I had invited her to participate in one of my favorite pastimes.

"You want me to go _spelunking _with you?" she had asked me disbelievingly.

"You don't have to make it sound so dirty," I replied indignantly. Her lips made the most mundane words sound a little naughty. It had taken some convincing, but I finally made her realize that this little exploration of parts unknown was right down her alley. Her natural curiosity won her over (as well, I liked to think, as the little part of her that couldn't help enjoying her time with me), and now rappelling down the pitch like Spiderman.

"I thought you said you never did this before?"

"Not in a cave…but I've gone mountain-climbing before. And I studied speleology a little in my spare time in graduate school, so I know a little about the nature of caves.

"In your spare time…" I rolled my eyes. "Could you please stop _knowing _everything?" Jesus. All I wanted to do was give the woman a new experience. And for her, it seemed there was no such thing. She just raised her eyebrows at me once we were both at the bottom. Apparently, she _couldn't _stop.

So, we explored for awhile, squeezing through tiny tunnels before entering the more cavernous areas, shining our flashlights here and there to take in the scenery. Bones was enchanted, as I knew she would be, by the variety of speleothem that gave this particular cave an almost eerie beauty. I was more concerned with make sure she didn't cause a cave-in and kill herself during her excited explorations.

"Booth! Booth. Look at this. This stalactite is _huge. _Do you know how many thousands of years it must have taken for the mineral deposits to cause a structure this big?" She circled in awe, and I followed her nervously, making sure she didn't touch the long, delicate column on the floor of the cave. "Wow."

"It's called a broomstick," I told her distractedly.

"Really?"

"Maybe we should…" I paused, realizing something. I had told her something new. "Broomsticks occur when the calcite buildup happens real fast…before drippage has a chance to occur. That's why they are so tall and spindly."

"That's interesting."

Suddenly, I felt like a million bucks. Not only had she learned something from me, but it was obvious that right now, her unrecognized research was the last thing on her mind. "Do you want to stop here and have lunch?"

"Sure," she said agreeably. Who even knew that Bones could be so agreeable?, I thought as I unpacked the lanterns and blankets from our backpacks and made a spot for us to eat. We took off our helmets and zipped open our fleeces, getting more comfortable. With the lanterns aglow, we turned off our flashlights, and this plunged the cavern into an otherworldly spectacle of flickering light, bouncing off the natural structures within. And this was the part I enjoyed so much about caving. If you used your imagination, you almost felt you were on a Martian landscape, somewhere far from home where nothing could touch you. It felt unique and a little exciting. And my occasional peeks over at my partner let me know that she was enjoying herself as well. The speleothem weren't the only things in the room that looked good in the glow of the lanterns. It was hard to tell in the partial darkness, but my partner looked a little flushed. Happy. I smiled at that.

"Whatcha think?" I asked through a mouthful of my sandwich.

It was an offhand question, and I expected a quick reply. When she paused for a few seconds, I almost became concerned that something was amiss, but when I looked over at her again she seemed thoughtful. "I think…I think I'm lucky to have someone like you as a friend, Booth."

Well now _I _was the one who was almost blushing. "It's a little weird when you're all nice to me, Bones," I told her, taking a long drink from my thermos to soothe my suddenly dry throat.

She looked at me seriously. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No. I'm just saying it makes me feel a little strange."

"Strange how?" she pushed, and I sighed. Should have known that even this small comment would pique her curiosity.

"Strange in that I don't know what to do with you. When you are arguing with me, I know what to do. I know how to respond. But when you are _nice_ to me…that's new territory.

She looked a little hurt. "You don't think I can be nice?"

"Of course you can be…never mind, Bones. Just eat your sandwich. I'm glad you like having me in your life. I…sort of like it too," I rambled. My God the woman could be frustrating. And flustering.

She seemed to be contemplating something for a second, and I looked at her warily, wondering if she was going to push this issue. Probably, having garnered a compliment from me, she was going balance her sweetness with some sort of innocent-yet-scathing comment about my religion or my values or my manhood. I opened my mouth to stop her before she began…just in time to catch the short, sweet kiss that she darted over to press on my lower lip before pulling back and looking downward with an expression I don't think I've ever seen on her before. Shyness.

For a moment, she seemed so nonchalant that I doubted it even happened. But my lips were tingling. Bones had _kissed _me. She did it. I'll be damned. "Booooones…." I said slowly. She barely glanced up.

"Yes?'

"What was that for?"

Shrugging, she took a swig of water from her thermos. "We were talking about how we liked each other. It made me feel like kissing you. So I did."

"Oh." I waited a second to see if she would continue, but she didn't. Well of course. Her explanation was completely logical. I couldn't stop a slow grin from spreading across my face.

She caught it. "What?" she asked indignantly.

"Nothing," I said, and I heard affection in my voice, wondered if she heard it too. "Hey…you wanna see what total darkness looks like?"

She nodded interestedly.

I turned off my flashlights and one of the lanterns, leaving only one dimly glowing. "Okay…you ready?" Slowly, I tamped the flame on the remaining one. The cavern went from dimly lit to complete and utter blackness. Neither of us moved for a second, and the only sound was the drip, drip, drip from the roof of the cave: the sound of another stalactite or stalagmite being formed.

The total lack of sensory stimulation became almost unbearable after a moment. Just before I succumbed and turned the flame back on, I felt her warm hand grab for mine, and I smiled in the darkness. It didn't seem so bad when she was touching me—that was enough sensory stimuli. And I found myself wanting more, but not from the light. "Bones," I whispered, and felt her fingers tighten around mine in response. "I want you to kiss me again."

There was a nearly intolerable second where nothing at all happened, and I almost apologized and turned the light back on. But then, the chilly dampness of the cave's atmosphere was again replaced by sweet warmth of her lips. They took a second to lock with mine, feeling in the dark, but once they did, they sent my body humming with its own pleasant glow. This kiss lasted longer; I made sure of it by placing my hand at the back of her neck and holding her there gently while my lips explored hers. I knew I had to check in with her before it went any further. Stroking her hair, I reluctantly pulled my lips from hers and whispered in her ear. "I like this. But I need you to tell me it won't hurt us. Because, honestly, you are one of the only people I couldn't imagine _not _having in my life."

"This doesn't hurt," she said quietly back, without hesitation, and I realized she was right. Actually, this felt better than anything I had done in a long time. Yes, I was easily convinced, and the second her lips let those words out I claimed them again, carefully maneuvering to sit closer to her and not knock over or lose the equipment sitting next to us. I traced her mouth with my tongue. I trailed my fingers down her face. I slipped one hand under her fleece and warmed it between the material and her skin, which made her sigh into my lips, which in turn made my stomach flip.

I was vaguely surprised when one of the flames in the lantern began burning again, and looked at her with questioning eyes before I saw how pretty she looked with her hair a little mussed and her just-kissed lips. "I want to see," she explained, unnecessarily at this point, and I agreed by studying her carefully as I lowered her onto the blanket below us, delicately pressing my mouth against her face and throat while she squirmed delightfully below me.

It was a little too cold to take off our clothes, which was only a little disappointing because it somehow seemed fitting to be exploring one another underneath them, fingers obviously creating pleasure but under cover, a poorly kept secret. Her skin was even softer than I had imagined, her breasts even fuller in the palms of my hands, her fingers almost impossibly skillful against my own body. She touched me with curiosity and wonder, taking me in like she had the majestic structures inside of the cave, and I suddenly knew why it was hard for her not to touch the speleothem that had so intrigued her. This was _her, _with all her intensity and passion—it was the reason that, despite our numerous differences, I had always been fascinated with her. Couldn't help admiring and liking her.

"Booth," she said in her husky voice while her fingers slipped into my pants and gripped me, as she straddled and arranged herself on top of me. I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut, rounding up every bit of self-control I possessed. "I really do feel better…" She slid down onto me with a breathy sigh, and I hugged her tightly, holding her still for a second. "Thank you for…oooohhh….being there for me."

"That's what friends are for, Bones," I said between gritted teeth, pushing her down and flexing my ass so I could feel her all around me. I looked up at her face, glowing in the lamplight against the ethereal backdrop of the cave, and prayed that she had meant what she had said about this not hurting us. Without her…there could be no without her. I kissed the lips that had so recently pouted their discontent, and set about pumping out of her any worries or disappointments or fears, filling her up and filling this empty cavern with our echoing cries and our feelings for each other.

When our shuddering bodies came to a rest again, it didn't take long for the chilliness to return. I pulled her fleece tighter around her and held her, sharing our warmth. She sighed contentedly against my neck. "I really do like you, Booth," she murmured against my neck, and the response didn't even need to be uttered.

With time, whatever this was might grow into something as majestic as the cave around us. I didn't know where this was going, but I knew exactly where it came from—a good place, a safe and secure place. And, like any natural wonder, I felt secure in the knowledge that it would take exactly the shape it was supposed to.

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**A/N: Just realized...we are halfway done with these. Wow! How time flies...**


	16. Fantasy on a Couch

**A/N: You all are enjoying this, aren't you? Watching me trying to come up with crazy stories to fit the scenarios that the hat chooses. Well, I certainly hope so. Because this all is sheer craziness. **_**CRAZINESS, **_**I tell you. So please, read, review, and let me know if this insanity is at all appreciated. Because I'm about half-way to the nut house, here;)**

**For those interested, the 2****nd**** Edition of the Happy Holidays story (by nekkidboothinc) is up! Check it out. There are no Succubi in it. But it's still pretty good. Love yous!**

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_Fantasy/Supernatural on a Couch: 2nd Person Booth_

In many ways, you actually preferred the crazy killers. It was easier to wrap your mind around their deplorable actions when they were the result of a mental illness, rather than a well-thought-out plan of destruction. But this guy….wooo. _Crazy. _You really weren't trained for this level of pathology, but you knew better than to argue with it. So you just nodded while he ranted and raved about the beautiful demon that stole his soul.

"You don't know what it's been like for me, man." His eyes were sunken and tired, but his voice eerily calm and rational. To look at him, you wouldn't have guessed he was insane. "When you can't rest. When your energy and your will are literally being sucked from your body and you are left with nothing. I just couldn't take it anymore."

"Uh huh. Okay, buddy," you said, trying to keep the distaste out of your voice. You weren't very good at disguising your feelings, though, and he heard it anyway. It pissed him off.

"Fuck you, man. My life has been hell," he spat.

You couldn't help taunting him a little. "Sounds like torture. Waking up every night to sex."

His eyes narrowed. "At least now that she's dead, I'll be safe from her. But she couldn't have been the only one. Maybe one'll come after you from now on. Then, you'll see."

'_Can only hope, nut job' _you thought, but you kept your mouth shut to avoid provoking him on the rest of the way to the station. You didn't need to be drawn into a conversation with a madman, ranting and raving that he had killed his girlfriend because she was some sort of sex-starved creature of the night. You already were confused enough by talking to the squints every day.

Speaking of, you needed to go get Bones to finish up the paperwork on this guy…she, after all, was the one who identified his victim. And, you'd have a good laugh together about the idea that sex could literally drive you crazy.

But as usual, after you had shown up at Bones' door and settled in on the couch with her with a whole briefcase full of documentation to fill out, she managed to surprise you. Of course.

"It sounds like our killer had been tangling with a succubus," she said, as reasonably as if she had just pointed out that the sun had been shining today.

"A succubus?" The middle-schooler in you snickered at the sound of the suggestive-sounding word coming out in Bones' feminine voice. "Is that exactly what it sounds like?"

She nodded seriously. "It's a well-known Western legend, dating back to medieval times. Succubi draw their strength from men's semen. To sustain themselves, they seduce or subdue men so that they will have sexual intercourse with them, hence allowing them to harvest their life force."

You choked back hysterical laughter. Apparently, your killer had been reading too many books on medieval Western mythology. "And…if this had any truth to it in the universe…it would be a problem _why?"_

Bones looked at you with that patronizing expression that drove you crazy. "They are _demons, _Booth. They would drain all of a man's life force, until he was exhausted…or _dead. _It's not an erotic fantasy."

You shook your head at her. "You talk about this stuff as if you actually believe it."

"I don't believe it. But our killer obviously did, since he was willing to kill for it. And really, _you _should be more open to such things, given your predispositions to accept myth as truth."

"Christianity is _not _a myth, Bones," you shot back at her. Jeez, the woman knew how to push your buttons. Got you all worked up and made you want to…do things to her, although you weren't entirely sure what. "Besides, even if I was open to believing this guy's..._insanity…_the fact is that he didn't kill a succubus. He killed an actual person. A woman who _you _examined and identified. And I'm assuming that if you found evidence that she was a demon in all your scientific tests, that you would have told me, right?"

She shrugged. "I don't believe I'd be capable of ascertaining demonism from someone's bones."

You sighed, rubbing your head, and you suddenly felt you really did understand what it was like to have your life force drained out of you. Only not via your penis. "'Kay. Can we just focus on the case now? Please?"

Your partner nodded breezily and it drove you batty that she had managed to rile you up while she herself was able to switch instantly to work-mode, unaffected by any of this. You worked sullenly and mostly silently for a long while until you started yawning, and were very nearly shocked when you looked at your watch and saw how late it had gotten. "Crap. I've really got to go."

Bones glanced at the clock and then at you, and seemed a bit surprised herself. "You look like you're about to pass out."

"I am," you admitted. You really were beat.

"You're in no shape to drive," she said reasonably. "Why don't you just sleep on the couch tonight? I don't want to have to worry about you on the road."

You looked at her suspiciously, but saw real concern on her face. Damn her. You had been trying to be angry with her. But you yawned again, and decided not to argue with her. "Thanks Bones."

"No problem." You thought you caught her looking at you curiously, but in a second the look was gone and she was packing up your paperwork and heading to the back room to get you a blanket. Kicking off your shoes and collapsing back onto her soft couch, you closed your eyes as thoughts swam sleepily through your head. How could Bones even suggest that you consider this killer's crazy rhetoric? You were as open-minded as the next guy, but you found it vaguely insulting that your partner would play devil's advocate in that way, giving even a modicum of validity to the (obviously untrue) myth. Strangely enough, your mind shifted focus again. Bones had said that the myth wasn't an erotic fantasy, but it sure sounded that way to you. If you are going to be tormented by a demon, that seemed like the way to go…

"For you," her voice said, and your eyes sprang opened, startled from your reverie. Although there was no way for her to know what you were thinking, you felt vaguely embarrassed as you took the blanket from her. "You know where most everything is," she told you, "But if you need anything else from me, knock."

"Thanks," you murmured, and smiled tiredly at her. "And if _you _need anything…I'm here."

She laughed softly. "I'll keep that in mind," she replied as she walked from the room and paused at the hall light. "Sweet dreams, Booth. Don't let the bedbugs bite. Or any demonic manifestations." She switched off the light and you were plunged into darkness as she left you.

If it would have been anyone else, you would have been sure she was flirting. You chuckled at the thought before you undressed to your boxers, laid back, and sleep reached its fingers up through your consciousness and yanked you quickly into a strange dream world filled with odd images and creatures...

God only knows when you finally awoke, but your eyes sprung open with a start and the room was pitch black. You were disoriented for a moment before you remembered that you were on Brennan's couch, not at home in your own bed. But really, the first thing that entered your mind was a sensation of paralysis, and a weight on your chest. You tried to move your limbs, but they seemed to be held in place. The weight on you was distracting, disturbing in the dark, but not entirely uncomfortable. There was a sensation of not being alone.

"Who's there? Bones, is that you?" you whispered hoarsely, in your post-sleep voice. Sucking in a gasp of air, your nostrils were suddenly filled with a perfumed sweetness that intoxicated you. Whatever that was in you that made you struggle, you stopped, even as you felt one gentle finger cover your mouth.

"Shhhh." And that was all she said before that finger was replaced by the softest lips you ever kissed, ones that gently pulled and sucked at your own until it felt like your whole mouth was on fire. You wanted nothing more desperately than to wrap your arms around her, flip her over underneath you, and give _her _the kissing of her life. But it too much effort just to _breathe._ When she pulled away, her eyes were glowing. Literally glowing. Your disoriented brain at first thought maybe they were reflecting some other light from the room, then you remembered that there wasn't any.

What the hell? This had to be Bones, playing some kind of trick on you. Trying to get you to see that if you were going to believe in the supernatural, you should believe in _all _things supernatural…including succubi-demons. But _what _a trick, you thought, as your lips were again captured by hers and her tongue plundered your mouth. And what _kind _of trick would have you here paralyzed? What kind of trick would turn her eyes into their own lanterns? These muddled thoughts disappeared when her fingers slipped under the blanket that was covering your chest, and tiptoed down the bare flesh there until she came to the place she was straddling you. She lifted slightly then, and you gasped in a huge breath of air while she divested you of the blanket. Yes. Yes, you Bones-succubus-creature-of-the-night, push it all away. You didn't need warmth or air or the ability to move, not as long as her mouth was trailing its way hotly down your chest, her silky hair tickling your skin while her tongue worked its way under your boxers.

You really should have been more disturbed by your inability to move, but it only irritated you as much as it left you powerless to tangle your fingers in her hair. She seemed to have little problem with movement, her fingers caressing you lightly, drawing her nails slowly up and down your rock-hard length. You felt every teasing stroke, sending so many sparks through your body that you thought for sure it would reanimate you. Sweet lord in heaven why wouldn't she let you move…

Was it possible for demons to have sympathy? Because she seemed to read your thoughts as she took your hand in hers and lifted it, placing it into the folds of the diaphanous gown she was wearing and onto her bare skin. She trailed it slowly up the length of her torso, over her ribs, excruciatingly slow until the pads of your fingers touched the bottoms of her full breasts, where she paused until a strangled moan left your throat. Seemingly satisfied with that, she drew your hand up until it cupped her fully, her hard nipple pressing against your palm. A breathy sigh came from her, one that you had been hearing in your dreams most every night, and your hand was drawn on a lazy path downwards again. _"Oh please please please let me touch you more," _you silently begged, but this time the Bones-succubus ignored your soundless plea, instead allowing your hands to drop back to your sides while she leaned forward and allowed your bare chests to come into contact for the first time, running her tongue gently around your lips.

You liked being in control during sex, really loved reducing partners to quivering, moaning creatures too blinded by pleasure to coherently respond. But right now, your lover was completely, indelibly in control, but you…well, you had never been more aroused in your life, especially not when her delicate hand reach backwards between both of your legs to gently pull out your erection, tugging it with smooth strokes that made you feel like you were going to lose your mind.

And then, you did nearly lose your mind when you felt her ease back against you, and suddenly it wasn't her hand that was engulfing you, but something a thousand times wetter and hotter and tighter. That scent, the one that smelled like flowers and powder and sex, overcame you again. "Bo…Bo…" The name of the person you wanted to be your lover tried to come from your throat, but refused to be spoken as she began to move, rhythmically, purring sounds of pleasure emanating from her. You thrust to meet her, not even realizing until later that if you were paralyzed, this shouldn't have been possible. But your brain wasn't controlling your hips right now, a primitive force was driving you. She was preternaturally tight, almost impossibly silken around your most sensitive parts. With every movement, she seemed to be coaxing you to lose control. Crazily, now you felt you could read _her _mind…

"_Fuck me, Seeley. Give me what I need, give me _all _of you. It'll make both of us feel good, I promise…" _Coming at the same time as these words in your head were the flashes of her eyes, the pulsating squeezes of a woman on the edge and pulling you with her. _"Just do it, Seeley…NOW."_

With a choked growl, there was no way you could hold back, not even if you wanted to, and you saw stars while you emptied into her. She must have felt that explosion, and liked it, because she made an almost feral noise and jerked against you hard, and those pulsating squeezes turned into wild spasms. Riding you hard, then slower, she carefully rocked until she claimed every ounce of your essence. Only then did she take a shuddering sigh and lean forward, resting her head on your chest.

You had never felt so completely spent after an orgasm, which was crazy since you did so very little to contribute to it. For a demon, this Bones-succubus was awfully tender in her afterglow, snuggling against you and removing any need for a blanket. Lying there, your eyes fell shut, and all thoughts left your mind. You forget about the strange circumstances surrounding this encounter. The move towards unconsciousness seemed to break your paralysis, and your last memory before lapsing into slumber was wrapping your arms around her and sleepily whispering, "Temperance." And the corresponding deep sigh of the woman you were holding, and her reply.

"Booth."

You frowned in your sleep. No.

"Booth!"

You lifted one eyelid, and daylight streamed in, nearly burning your retina. Quickly, you closed your eyes again.

A soft hand was nudging you. "You have to wake up, Booth. It's time for work."

You groaned. There was no part of you that felt like it was time to wake up. Forcing your eyes open, you saw your partner. She, on the other hand, looked fresh as a daisy. Her skin was glowing, her hair was shiny, and she looked full of energy. "I don't wanna," you grumbled.

"What's wrong, didn't you sleep well?"

Memories flooded into you, and your eyes sprang open. Her face looked concerned, innocent. "Did you?"

"I had a very refreshing night." She smiled at you. "Now, wake up," she said, patting your shoulder one last time and standing from her crouched position beside you, stretching a little. "Both of us have a lot to do today." You looked at her suspiciously.

She started to walk away.

"Bones," you called. "Did you…"

She looked back, questioningly. "Yes?"

You had no idea how to phrase this. "Did you…um…come out here last night and...maybe...drain the life force out of me?"

Her face looked vaguely alarmed for a second, and her eyes widened. You thought you saw a flash of guilt pass over her expression…right before she burst into laughter.

"Nice try, Booth. That's a great story. But something tells me that Cullen's not going to buy that excuse for missing work any more than I would." Shaking her head, she walked towards the kitchen, away from you. Leaving you to force your tired body off the couch and into the bathroom.

You splashed water onto your face. Didn't help the situation. Man, you were tired. And what a crazy dream you had. It seemed so real. Real enough to actually ask Bones if she had… A tired laugh came out of you at the thought.

You turned to exit the bathroom, and something caught your eye. Hanging on the hook on the back of the door….a diaphanous, silky nightgown. You ran a hand across it. Lifted the sleeve to your face, breathed in deeply. It smelled like flowers and powder…and a little like you. You dropped it.

Standing frowning for awhile, you turned the thought in your sleep-hazed mind. Bones, a succubus demon, sucking your essence from you with the sheer force of her sexual power? You weren't sure how you felt about that….ridiculous notion. What were the alternatives? Bones playing an elaborate prank on you? Bones, deciding simply that she wanted you and developing amnesia about it the next morning? Bones, sleepwalking her way on top of you on the couch? All of them sounded equally unlikely.

And despite that, your mind started searching for the reason you were going to find to sleep on her couch again tonight. Because after all, you couldn't have her taking her energy from anybody else, could you? You would be strong in the face of this mystery…until you had every last piece of it figured out. To _not _do that would be…well…crazy.


	17. Humor in a Hot Tub

**A/N: I'm back! I must apologize to so many of you---I've been away (in the land of dial-up—not fun for a writer) for a long while for vaca, and have fallen so far behind on reviews and review replies that it's not even funny. But rest assured, I still love and appreciate each and every one of you, and am planning to start fresh and get back on the ball now that I've rejoined humanity. Because I miss you! And this is my favorite place:) Show me some love back, k? And I'll make it worth your while;)**

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_Humor in a Hot Tub: 3__rd__ Person_

"Bones."

"Yes?"

"Did we…"

"Did we what? Just get married by an Elvis impersonator?"

"Um, yeah. That."

"Yes Booth." She relaxed back into the steaming, swirling water, letting her back and shoulders adjust to the temperature. "Are you regretting it? Because if you are already backing out…"

"Not regret, really…" He paused, skimming his fingers over the bubbles on the surface of the water. "It just seems a little….surreal right now." Glancing around him, he looked bemused. "I don't think I've ever been in a heart-shaped Jacuzzi before. Have you?"

Her expression was deadpan. "What do you think?"

"Well, I guess being in a honeymoon suite in a Vegas hotel is a new experience for both of us."

"It is. That's sort of the point, isn't it?"

That it was. A social experiment. Could two partners, with no romantic ties and practically nil in common, make their first marriage work based only on mutual respect and a commitment? Well, it sounded like a good idea after a couple Jager shots at 2 in the morning after a rough day, and a heated debate about whether or not love was an important component of marriage. It was the _commitment _that mattered, Brennan argued—arranged marriages made as much sense as anything else, much more so than those based on a fly-by-night emotion such as love. It sounded like a challenge to Booth. And how easy it had been to give into his love of competition when they were on assignment in the wedding capital of the world.

She adjusted the jet of water that was directly behind her back, squirming in pleasure at the way it beat the tension out from between her shoulder blades. "So…what do we do?"

"What do you mean, what do we do? We just…be _married."_

"Well, I've never thought about being married before. You have. You have to help me out here."

"Well…I guess…we'll have to live together. For one."

She frowned. "Whose apartment?"

"I don't know. We'll have to figure that out, based on practical consideration. And we'll have to combine our finances."

"I've always been financially independent. Is that necessary?"

"You agreed to this, Bones. You talked the talk. Now you have to walk the walk."

"_Fine." _She was quiet for awhile, trying to adjust to the reality of the situation. Reality felt a little hard to come by when her head was still buzzing a little from the alcohol, and they were sitting under the glare of the lights in the tacky room, in their underwear in a heart-shaped Jacuzzi. "Actually, I'm surprised that you suggested this. You've basically agreed to enter into a marriage that you don't believe will last. That doesn't seem like you."

Booth shrugged. "It's a civil union. It's not like we got married in a Catholic church." He looked a little uncomfortable.

Luckily, she was a little too drunk to continue in her line of questioning. Her thoughts free-floated to the next seemingly obvious topic. "Are we going to have sex?"

Now, he looked _really _uncomfortable. _"Now?" _he squeaked out, his eyes darting back and forth, as if looking for an escape.

"No, in general. Walk the walk, remember?" She saw his discomfort. "Is physical attraction a problem? Because if it is, lots of married people cope with desire discrepancies, I'm sure we can find some way to work around it…"

"No!" he exclaimed, his face horrified.

"Well, I enjoy sex, Booth. I don't think I can be part of a sexless marriage. So unless you want to have an open relationship, we'll have to figure out _something. _What do you think about when you masturbate? Perhaps we can engage in mutual fantasies, or role play…"

"_It's not a problem," _he interrupted through gritted teeth.

"Oh. Well, why didn't you just say so?" she said breezily, and he shook his head, defeated. "See, I think we'll be just fine. We're not so incompatible, when it comes right down to it." Her face was flushed from the sauna-like heat that the tub was creating, and she fanned herself lightly with damp hands while she leaned back and closed her eyes.

He sat silently for a moment, considering. Finally, he asked _her _a question. "So…_you're _okay with it?"

"Hmm?"

"The physical attraction thing. You…don't have a problem?"

She shook her head thoughtfully. "I don't think so. I think I could have sex with you."

He was so busy thinking about the proper way to respond to that, that he didn't really notice her movement toward him. Until he found himself reclining in the heart-shaped Jacuzzi with his very hot, very wet new wife straddling his thighs, her warm little hands resting on his shoulders. Gasping, his own hands went instinctively to her hips. "Whoa, Bones. I don't think…I don't know…I'm not sure that…I'm ready for this."

"Really?" She squirmed her bottom against him. "You feel ready."

"Sex is more than just the physical, Bones…_damn." _She was adjusting herself so that they were pressed together from hips to chest, their slippery torsos sliding together and damp tendrils of her hair clinging to his shoulders. Apparently _not _interested in making things easy for him.

"If it were more than just physical with us, this whole experiment would be purposeless, Booth," she replied reasonably, lowering her head and blowing gently on his ear. He shivered violently at the sudden coolness, and his cock, already hard since the moment she shed her clothes and climbed into this tub with him, stiffened until it practically ached. "Now, why don't you just relax and enjoy the benefits of our new union." With that, she captured his face between her hands and brushed her lips against his.

They had kissed in the chapel, a quick "smack" that sent them both giggling. But neither of them was giggling right now. Booth groaned lightly, and his hands moved of their own volition up the sides of her body, tugging her downward lightly to increase the contact between them. The water churned around them, almost as furiously as their hearts were beating. When she released his face after several moments of gentle, and then more intense tongue-play and pulled away slightly, his change of heart was apparent. "I guess…for the first time…wanting to have sex with you isn't a sin. Huh?" he forced out.

"You got it," she whispered, gazing into his eyes for one poignant moment before pulling off of him and floating backwards. A small noise of frustration left him at the loss of contact, which turned into a moan when he recognized her intention of divesting him of his underwear. "Married people are supposed to share secrets, right?"

"Right," he replied shakily as her fingernails scraped against his ass while she pulled off his boxers and hung them over the side of the tub. "But I think I already know you pretty well, Bones." Although right now, he was distinctly certain that he had never seen this side of her before.

"We're in the perfect place for me to show you my secret talent."

Dear sweet Jesus, what was she talking about? She crawled between his legs, holding onto his hips again, making him quiver. "What's that?"

"I can hold my breath for a really, _really _long time," she said seriously. And he nearly exploded right then. "Count, okay?"

"Count?" Then there was no question about what she meant when she fully submerged herself in the water, her head disappearing into the bubbly surface and he was suddenly swallowed up by a heat that seemed even more intense than the hot liquid surrounding them. And briefly, he forgot how to count. He forced himself to remember when he realized just how close he was to losing control. "One…two…three…" She was doing things with her tongue that he didn't know were even physically possible. "Twenty-five…twenty-six…" Her throat gripped him tightly and his fingers flexed against the rim of the tub, trying hard not to give into the urge to knot them into her hair. "Sixty-eight…sixty-nine…" He was wildly vacillating between ecstasy and concern for her need to have oxygen. Finally figuring that if she were unconscious, she definitely wouldn't be able to do _those _things with her mouth and fingers, he let himself relax a bit. When he reached "ninety-four," and she surfaced with a gasp, he found himself nearly as breathless as she was. "That," he declared, "was amazing."

"I can usually hold it for five minutes," she said, breathing hard. "But…my heart rate's increased…requires more oxygen…"

Disregarding her stated need for air, he pulled her towards him again, kissing her swollen lips hard, trying to swallow everything that was her and take it into him. He skimmed his hands over the slick planes of her body, touching her greedily now, pulling at her underwear. So warm…he might have a heat stroke soon, one shouldn't engage in this type of strenuous physical activity in such high temperatures, but death suddenly seemed a small price to pay to be inside his (very talented) wife sometime very, very soon.

She was moaning now, his new favorite sound, while his thumbs circled her now-free nipples and she ground against him. Over the bubbling water, he heard a pounding that vaguely confused him until it was joined by a voice telling them to shut up. Apparently the walls here were thinner than they should be in a Vegas hotel. "It's the goddam honeymoon suite," he called out loudly between kisses. What did their neighbor want him to do? Tell her to stop making those delightful noises? To be more respectful while they consummated their new marriage in this oh-so-cliché red tub? Maybe to take it to the rotating bed in the other corner. Fuck that guy. He was going to make her scream, just to piss him off. Reaching between their bodies, he tickled her clit lightly, eliciting that very reaction. Take _that, _killjoy, he thought, as he busied himself trying to suck the alcohol from her tongue.

While she pressed her soft body against his hard one, all she could think was that marital sex wasn't as boring as she had been led to believe. At least not when your husband was one wet, hot Seeley Booth, who seemed intent on proving a point to her and their disgruntled neighbor and the world by arousing _her _as much as possible. And when she retaliated by gripping him in one soaked hand and guiding him into the place she needed him the most, she noted with satisfaction that his moans were now as loud as hers. This just _might _be worth getting married. Hell, this might just be worth a lifetime of alimony. Holding on tightly, she moved up and down on him, the water splashing outside the tub now. Their downstairs neighbors might be the next one bitching at the flood they were causing. Oh well. She'd write them a check from their new joint bank account.

"Bones," he panted, pulling at her hips, the swirling water doing the most delicious things to both of their bodies. She was warm and buttery and soft all around him, and he knew right this moment that he didn't want what happened here to stay here. He wanted to take this home with him and have it every day. "I…I…"

"What?" she groaned, bouncing on him, feeling her impending orgasm welling inside of her like a tsunami.

"I love you. _I love you. _I fuckin' LOVE YOU." The words left him at the same time he let loose with his own torrent inside of her, causing a chain reaction of spasms from her as well. Relishing in her loudest scream yet, he pulled her as close as she could get, feeling the goosebumps on her upper arms from sitting in the now-half-empty-tub. He held her there until the water went from rolling waves to gentle laps. The pounding from next door had stopped, their neighbor apparently satisfied that the honeymoon was over.

"_Booth," _she groaned, sounding…_displeased? _Really?

"What's wrong?" he gasped.

She pulled back and landed a wet smack on his arm. "You aren't supposed to _love me. _The whole premise of this arrangement is that we don't love each either. Dummy."

"Oh." He shifted, trying to get the warm water back on their still-joined bodies. The jets sputtered, the water barely covering them. "Sorry."

She laid her head back down on his shoulder. "I guess it's alright," she murmured, wrapping her legs around him tighter.

"But honestly, Bones. Did you think I'd really marry someone I didn't love?"

"I guess not." She shrugged.

"Really? You knew that? And you married me anyway.?" She didn't reply. "You're ridiculous, you know."

"Stop nagging me, Booth."

"We're moving into my apartment."

"Forget it. My things won't fit there." Waterlogged, she struggled her feet, holding his hand to keep her balance.

"My stuff won't fit in _yours." _

"You'll deal."

He sighed, following her out of the tub. His ball and chain. And has they moved to the rotating bed to again celebrate their honeymoon, they argued like two married people who had no secrets at all.

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**A/N: See that button? Right…down…there. Hit it!:)**


	18. Adventure in the Snow

**A/N: Hi everybody! So the weirdest thing has been happening to me lately. I've been having trouble **_**getting myself to write. **_**I know, what the h, right? It's very depressing. I'm thinking that it's probably just holiday craziness that is taking up brainspace and shifting my priorities, so very hopeful that come New Year, balance will be restored and the chapters will again flow from my fingertips. In the meantime, your words of encouragement are always appreciated. Thanks so much to all my loyal readers and reviewers. You keep me typing even when it doesn't feel entirely natural. Smooches. I hope you enjoy this very seasonally appropriate chapter of Scenes. **

**Oh, and the new Christmas edition of Happy Holidays (from nekkidboothinc) is up! Hurry and check it out if you haven't yet!**

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_**Adventure in the Snow: 1**__**st**__** Person Brennan**_

His fingers were frigid. Once he had removed his glove, it didn't take long for the icy coldness to seep into the exposed skin; in fact, it took only the mere seconds until his fingers slid under the blanket, then my coat, then my shirt, then the thermal undershirt I was wearing underneath that. They touched my skin and I held back a flinch, refusing to let him know that I was being affected by him, that I was giving into him. My eyes remained firmly fixed on the night sky in front of us, that awesome spectacle that had apparently hypnotized me. The greenish glow hung like a curtain in the sky. Aurora borealis. Excited electrons colliding with Earth's atmospheric atoms. It was that atomic oxygen making this icy world shine this way tonight. I recited these facts to myself to distract my body from his touch, so that he wouldn't have the satisfaction of arousing me. It wasn't really working. I had the ridiculous thought that if I looked down, I would see steam wisping up from underneath the blanket, evidence of his cold hands making me hot. Even though I knew it was crazy, I refused to look away from the night sky. And he refused to stop warming his hand on my skin, and letting me feel his erection pressing against the small of my back, even through all our layers, from his position sitting behind me.

It must have been the almost-dying thing that pissed him off. But it wasn't my fault he was atop this Fairbanks mountain right now. I was merely the messenger. In excavating for bones of people from an ancient tribe of Alaskan natives, we found remains that were distinctly not ancient. That mountain was a crime scene. And what did Temperance Brennan do when she stumbled across a crime scene? She called Seeley Booth. With a barely-there smile at the mystery that so intrigued me, and a little thrill of anticipation of the jolt our working together caused me. He complained that before I came into the picture, the most dangerous place he found himself for work was a darkened D.C. alleyway. That sounded much less exciting to me than this desolate ice-capped paradise.

"At least I don't need a Sherpa guide to lead me to dead bodies in the city," he had grumbled, while strapping on his mountaineering boots and putting on layer after layer of insulating clothing.

I reminded him that we weren't climbing the Himalayas or even anywhere near Nepal, so his Sherpa reference was incorrect. It was a full-blooded Eskimo that would be leading us along this fairly treacherous incline today. He didn't appear to appreciate my correction.

To his credit, it was several hours later that I too was wishing for the experienced Sherpa. Because that was the time when the mild snow that had been predicted turned into blowing, swirling storm. When the guide asked us, tentatively, if we wanted to continue, I said yes, confident in my mountaineering abilities. And besides, we were already two hours into our ascent. But of course, that was before the blowing, swirling storm turned into a furious blizzard. Everywhere we looked was white. At one point, I looked in front of me couldn't see our guide. Then he turned and his face stood in contrast to the white of the snow. His parka was covered, and when his back was to me, he disappeared into the blinding whiteness. He screamed that this was crazy, that we should turn back now.

But I couldn't. If we didn't make it today, that crime scene was going to be lost, covered, and the person who had murdered that man in this frigid world was going to go free. I told the guide to go back if he wanted to, I remembered where I was going. I had an excellent sense of direction. Even in the snow. I wasn't expecting him to actually leave, but he did. Booth took my arm, screamed into the wind, making his voice sound tinny. "We should go with him. This isn't worth risking our lives!"

Screw that. If nothing else, I would recover those bones and bring them back to the lab, so at least there would be a chance that we could solve this crime. "You go, Booth." I gripped my compass. "I'll be fine…I'll get the remains and come back down tomorrow when the storm dies down."

His grip was so tight on my arm that I could feel it even through all my layers. "I am _not _leaving you alone! What if something happened?"

My sigh was lost in the screaming air and blowing snow. It was so Booth. What if something happened? Then we'd _both _be dead, instead of just me. "Come on then. Follow me."

And he did. And the climb got steeper, and the storm got wilder. And eventually I realized that I couldn't have done this without Booth. The snow was getting too loose, and my feet were losing their grip. We had to pull out the ropes from our packs, support each other one at a time up the mountainside, belaying carefully when sometimes we could barely see the person below us. "Bones!" he yelled down at me, his face hardly visible. I pulled hard at the rope, trying to get a good grip. "We have to stop! This is too dangerous!"

"We're almost there!" I screamed back. One step. Two steps. Slip. My hands clawed at the rope, caught it. Booth frantically left some slack into it. His sudden movement sent snow showering down into my face.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I'm fi…" My feet went out from under me again. The rope slipped through my gloved hands. I tumbled backwards, frantically trying to take hold of _anything, _but there was nothing, just fistfuls of snow. My fall shook loose all the unpacked snow around me, and it tumbled after me. I rolled, gasping, but my flailing limbs only exacerbated the avalanche. Opening my mouth to scream, it was packed with the snow that was falling around me. There was icy coldness everywhere, against my face, being forced down my jacket, down my boots, and then I couldn't breathe. Then there wasn't much of anything at all.

What happened next happened in flashes. I remember being pulled upwards, and the sound of my name and a feeling of déjà vu. What was it with me and getting buried alive? Then being half-dragged, half-carried, sliding easily across the snow. So cold. My eyes fluttered open every now and again, and I saw white and saw Booth's frantic movements and a green structure being raised against an icy backdrop. Dragged again…then at least the snow wasn't pelting my face anymore, although it was becoming harder and harder to feel it anyway. Hands against my numb skin, fumbling, unzipping my parka, pulling off my sweater. "Booth," I croaked out.

"Now isn't the time for modesty, Bones. Arms up."

Reluctantly, I did as he asked. He was right. What was left of my body heat was melting the snow in my clothes, making them wet, bringing me ever closer to hypothermia. I was shivering violently. I felt myself being maneuvered into what must have been the sleeping bag that was in his pack, there just in case we got caught on this godforsaken mountain overnight. Then, after some fumbling of his own, he slid in beside me, pulling even more blankets over us on the way. His comparatively warm skin felt almost painfully good against mine. Without even thinking, my arms went around him greedily, sucking up his heat. And his arms encircled mine and took one of my freezing legs between his own. I shook.

"Keep your eyes open, Bones. At least for a little bit. Tell me about the bones you found."

My teeth chattered. "M…m…male. Looked l..like age range from 35-40. Sh…sh…shattered…." I couldn't quite make it to "third cervical vertebrae" on that first pass. "Booth…"

"Just start again. Tell me."

I went through again, and again, and again after this. And eventually, the wind stopped whistling quite so loudly against the thick material of the tent. At some point, I stopped shivering quite so hard, and my voice became smoother. And the last thing I remember before falling asleep was being able to hear Booth's heart, thumping against his chest and my ear.

I awoke to almost unearthly silence. It was much dimmer now than I remembered. I became conscious of my body, finally feeling able to move my fingers and toes. My torso was sprawled out over my partner's, hands tucked underneath him, legs tangled with his, like the bodies of lovers. He was now sleeping as well, chest rising and falling slowly. Against my face, it occurred me that his skin was the softest of any man I had ever touched, which was an intriguing juxtaposition with his strength. Briefly, I thought about what might have happened if he had left me when the guide had. I would have died. _He _might have died. I shuddered again, this time not from the cold. Reacting unconsciously, I curled up next to him tighter, and his body responded, face burying into my hair and the hand that was resting right above my bottom pulling me closer. I felt a strange, not-unpleasant tingling all over my skin, one that I typically associated with working on a particularly exciting case. Or having particularly mindblowing sex. As if reading my thoughts in his sleep, he pressed himself against my thigh. And in that second, it was very clear just how alive both of us were.

Forcing myself to abandon that delicious feeling, I disentangled myself from my partner, sliding out from the comforting warmth of the sleeping bag…and his body…and into the glacial air of the tent. He woke up in the process, and my teeth started chattering again almost immediately while I tested the dryness of my clothes and jacket with my hands. There seemed to be no moisture left on them. Thank God. I began pulling them on, piece by piece. We needed to get back to work _right now, _before I forgot what was important…

"What are you doing, Bones?"

"The storm's over," I replied, barely looking at him. "It's getting dark. We should set out again before it gets too dusky to see. I think I'll still be able to pinpoint…"

"I don't think so," he said, sounding exasperated.

"We need to find those bones. It's the reason we came up here in the first place. I'm not leaving without them, Booth," I said defiantly, zipping up my parka.

"_Bones. _You almost died. We need to get you back down as soon as possible, make sure you're safe."

"I'll be alright. A few extra hours won't hurt me. Come on. Get dressed." I finally hazarded a glance at his face, and was a little surprised at the anger I saw there. Why was he _angry?_

"Didn't you hear me? You almost _died. _I had to dig you out a pile of snow before you suffocated or froze to death. I almost had to watch you _die, _Bones. And you care so little that you're willing to risk it again by going out in the mess right now to dig for a skeleton? You'd give it all up for a _skeleton?" _

I didn't like what he was implying. "In case you've forgotten, it's our _job, _Booth. All I want is to do my job. That's _all."_

"Well maybe I want more than that," he said softly, his eyes still seeming petulant to me. He sat up, grabbing for his undershirt and pulling it on over that smooth skin. "I'm not going with you."

"What?" My eyes widened. He couldn't do this to me. Even though the storm was over, I would still need his help moving up the final ridges of the mountain, especially with the potential for another avalanche still very real. "You have to."

"I won't. We are staying here tonight. Then in the morning, when it's light out, we will go back down and get you checked out." He continued to dress, methodically, not in any hurry.

"Booth! _Please." _I fought my own anger, and tried to reason with him. "I'm a professional. I know what I'm doing. You don't have to take care of me…I'm not your child. Or your wife. I can _do _this. I just need you to help me." I hated the plaintive quality I heard in my own voice.

"No." His voice was firm. I knew there was no arguing. Frustration rose inside of me. I snatched the extra blankets that covered the sleeping bag. "Where are you going?"

"Outside." I saw him start to protest, and I interrupted. "Don't worry. I won't stray too far from your side. I just can't be in here with you right now." The zipper on the tent got stuck for a moment, and I swore at it.

"So you are pissed because I don't want you to get sick or die on your quest for some pile of bones in the middle of Freeze-Your-Nuts-Off, Alaska."

"I'm pissed because you don't trust my professional judgment." I yanked at the zipper until it finally came loose. "You know, Booth, maybe it would be better if I _was _your wife. Because at least then we could have sex, and then maybe _something _good would come from this partnership." It was the meanest thing I could think to say in that moment, and I didn't stick around to see his reaction. Stumbling out of the tent, I drug the blankets out with me and fell down into the snow several yards away, wrapping the material that was still a little warm from our combined body heat around me tightly. I tried not to cry in frustration, because I knew the tears would just chill me further. The strength of my anger was inexplicable, even to me, but it felt safer than whatever I had been feeling wrapped up with Booth in that tent.

That's when I saw it. Because the tent was green, it had disguised the phenomenon happening outside. Aurora borealis. Excited electrons colliding with Earth's atmospheric atoms. And creating a surreal greenish glow that reflected off the snow around us. I had never seen one before, outside of pictures…it happened only rarely, and was only visible in certain parts of the world. Fairbanks being one of them. I stared at it. Was Booth right? Did I value my life so little? Was I more concerned about the dead than I was about the living, or even about myself? I thought about how Booth had risked his life to save mine, giving up his warmth to me. Guilt twinged inside me at that moment, but I was still angry. He shouldn't have been able to make me so warm. Damn him.

I was so hypnotized by the aurora that I didn't hear him approach behind me. But I didn't move when I felt him slide in behind me, sitting on the blanket with his chest pressed against my back. Loose snow swirled around us in the wind. His breath was warm even through the wool of my hat. "It has nothing to do with trust," he whispered. "I need you to stay alive."

My hackles rose at his implication. "My work is what makes me feel alive," I replied defensively, ignoring how acutely alive I felt when I was pressed up against him in the tent.

"I know you feel more than that, Bones. You aren't that cold." I stiffened a little bit, part of me wondering what he meant, and another part promising that I already knew. And that was when he removed his glove, and his hand slipped under the blanket that was covering me, giving me that same tingle I felt in the warm cocoon of the sleeping bag. With the other hand, he adjusted the blankets so that they covered both of us.

My skin felt hypersensitive, and it seemed I could feel every single ridge of his freezing fingerprints against my midriff. His hand moved slowly, so slowly, probably to give me the opportunity to stop him. But, of course, I didn't. I just stared at the ethereal glow emanating from the darkening sky, willing him not to notice my quickening breath. In this landscape, my breath was visible, however, and it betrayed me. His hand moved upwards, higher. Getting warmer, now. It cupped the globe of my breast, and his thumb, trembling a little, brushed my nipple. It was so hard from the cold and the arousal and the anticipation that his touch was very nearly painfully orgasmic. I cursed the sounds that came unbidden from my throat while his thumb manipulated me, first one nipple then the next, going back and forth as if he couldn't bear to give one less attention than the other. Underneath all my layers, my panties dampened. So much for staying dry. The flakes of snow melted quickly against my flushing face. Over my shoulder, I could see the smoky puffs of his breath now, satisfyingly coming faster as well. Defiantly, I shoved my bottom further backwards, nestled hard between his legs, knowing he'd feel that stimulation against his erection.

It became a game of one-upmanship at that point. His hand slid downward, worked its way under my pants and panties, stroked the short curls he found there. I rocked a little against him, providing friction against the hardness I felt at my back. His fingers went lower, spreading me, stroking smoothly up and down the wet heat that I knew was giving my arousal away. I gripped his thighs with my gloved hands. He plunged one finger, not at all cold now, inside of me.

That was it. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to show me just how good it could feel to be alive, surrounded by powerful forces of nature that neither of us could control. He had taken away from me the thing that would make me feel potent, capable. Now, I was going to take something back. Gasping a breath into my raw throat, I reached behind me, grasping at the bulge that was prominent even through three layers of clothes. Fumbling under the blankets that were covering us, I struggled to find the fasteners that were keeping him from me. I felt smug when my fingers were surprisingly nimble even through the gloves. His penis was hard as ice in my hand, and I pulled it out. Air sucked hard into his lungs, and I knew that the air must feel shockingly cold against his sensitive, uncovered skin. Sighing in traitorous empathy, I kept my hand wrapped firmly around him while I did my best to wiggle my ass out of my own pants while staying as covered by the blankets as possible. His reaction had been right on; that cold air _stung. _And also, felt strangely irresistible against my previously-heated skin.

If my intentions hadn't been clear before, they were now. "Bones. Let's go back to the tent," he said raggedly into my ear.

"You started this here," I groaned, lifting myself, instinctively making him close his legs to give me somewhere to sit. "You are damn well going to finish it." Before either of us could get too cold, I impaled myself on him. He was big. Of course he was. I was both thrilled and disappointed by the unfairness of it all. He just had to be _everything._

Our loud whimpers echoed. My hands fell to either side to brace myself, and I ended up with fistfuls of snow. The green glow of the aurora was fading as it got darker, darker, but my body seemed only beginning to be lighting up. I moved up and down against his thick heat, his hands at my hips urging me, and words left my lips, mostly intelligible. I did recognize one phrase passing through my mind and out through my mouth at a lightning pace: _"Wake me up wake me up wake me up…" _I hoped that later, he wouldn't ask what I meant. I didn't want to have to tell him.

He was making guttural noises in my ear and saying my name. He sounded close. Good. I was almost hoping that he would come before I did, but I knew it wasn't going to happen. His hand slipped between my legs, captured my clit between two cold-again fingers, squeezed delicately. _Damn you,_ I swore to myself as the sweet hot throbbing rose from my center and up through the rest of me, forcing out a groan along the way. In retaliation for making me come, so quickly and so easily, I squeezed down on him, extra hard, and was rewarded by a cry of ecstasy and the feel of him spasming inside of me. _Yes. _For the first time, the dusting of snow blowing against my face felt good, refreshing. It made me feel alive. _He _made me feel alive. The green, swirling glow had nearly disappeared to black overhead. The night was almost ordinary again. Ordinary for two people who just made punishing love in the snow after a near-death experience on a frigid Alaskan mountaintop. Somehow, not even this really surprised me anymore.

That feeling of being invigorated lasted approximately 30 seconds before our bodies started to cool and the sweat started to dry. And it was _freezing _again. I was alarmed by the quick, ridiculous thought of what would happen if we got stuck together like this. A burst of laughter left my lips.

He was still panting against the back of my neck. "What?" he asked defensively.

I glanced over my shoulder, looking at him for the first time since I had awoken in the tent earlier. He had risked his life to save mine. Ignored the possibility of losing evidence in order to keep me safe. I looked forward again just in time to seem the very last of the aurora fade. Maybe…just maybe…my life _was _that extraordinary.

"Nothing." I shook my head before turning it back to him. I pressed my cold lips against his. Our first kiss. Then, reluctantly: "Thanks for saving my life, Booth."

"Yeah, well." Now _he _sounded embarrassed, and that pleased me. "You're my partner, after all."

"I'm sorry I said nothing good comes from our partnership. That…obviously isn't true."

"Not _anymore, _at least."

That made me feel a little bad. "I'm serious."

"I know." He pressed his face against my collar, and I knew I was forgiven. "Hey Bones?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm freezing my ass off here."

I laughed. And empathized. "Point taken."

We made our way back to the tent. It was unfortunate, that the body on top of this mountain might now be buried forever. But now, instead of making me sad, it just made me bound and determined to spend the rest of the night remembering what it was like to be alive.


	19. Poetry by a Fireplace

**A/N: Another poetry challenge! Goldpiece told me, "You know, you don't have to rhyme," and I'm like, ya know, Goldy, you're right. I'm making things harder on myself. But somehow, I found that exponentially increasing the number of words I could possibly use actually made things harder than before. ****Lol. But at least it's something different. Anyways, let me know what you think. After this one, starting over again with genres for the last time!**

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_Poetry by a Fireplace: 1__st__ person Booth_

Hot.

When I thought about us,

One word came to mind.

Hot.

Burning, sizzling, steaming, crackling,

Embers red, flames shooting, blood boiling

Hot.

Maybe more than one word,

But a thousand more feelings

That I couldn't say

So I had to show.

Pressed her to the floor

While the fire burned

Inside and out,

Warming the skin that I bared,

Burning her with my kisses,

Heating the part of her

She tried so hard to keep cold.

I had never been fooled,

Had felt her heat

In all the working

All the fighting

All the teasing

All the playing

And when I realized

We had to be together

I knew it had to be

Hot.

So I started the fire,

I nursed the flames,

Brought her in from the cold

And instead of explaining

I kissed her breathless.

We _were _the blaze,

That scintillating heat,

The sparks inside us

Fueling our bodies

As they ignited together.

Reflections dancing

On her alabaster skin

And a heated touch

Told me I was right

About what this would be.

So fucking hot.

Protests lost under passion's glow,

Loving her slow,

Then faster.

A flaring pleasure building,

Sparks jumping,

Screaming wind outside

Not touching this heat.

And when the flames die down,

Embers softly glowing

I'm awed by her luminosity

And find that

Hot

Could never describe this fire.


	20. Romance in a Bed

**A/N: I knoooooow. Romance in a bed. **_**Booooooring. **_**But I work for the hat, ladies and gents. And sometimes, the hat wants pure, unadulterated sap. Sometimes the hat says to me, "Enough with your strange stories of handcuffs and candle wax! I want **_**Harlequin, **_**damn you!" And sometimes I worry about myself a little bit because it seems odd that the hat is talking to me. But whatevs. Get out your toothbrushes and prepare for the cotton-candy smut!**

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_Romance in a Bed: 3__rd__ Person_

He had practically flown over to her apartment, terrified that something awful had happened. Bones almost never called him that late, especially, not on a weekend, especially not with that anxious quality to her voice. And she was vague about why she wanted him to come over. Bones didn't get anxious often, nor was she usually vague, so when he heard it he immediately thought disease, serious injury, or someone in her house about to kill her. That last one was always particularly on his mind, since it had happened a few times before. So he was prepared for anything.

Anything except Bones in her tiny, black, silky nightie looking at him curiously as he burst into her place, looking around in every corner for the intruder that must have been there somewhere. "Bones, what's wrong? Are you okay? What's going on? What…"

She interrupted him. "Why do you always think something's wrong with me?" She seemed genuinely curious.

"There isn't?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not lying to you, Booth."

"Oh." Stepping back, he sighed in relief, running his fingers through his hair. "Well that's good. What's going on then?"

She regarded him with serious eyes. "You can't tell? I thought it was fairly obvious."

Huh? He had been so concerned about the imaginary murderer that he hadn't noticed much else at all. Glancing about, he tried to ascertain what was so obvious. It was just Bones' apartment. Dim lights. Jazz music playing softly on the stereo in the corner. Champagne bucket on the table complete with uncorked bottle chilling inside, two glasses sitting beside it. Then, Bones herself, barely dressed, skin looking as silky as the scrap of a nightgown she was wearing. His eyes narrowed.

"Bones."

"Yes?"

"Are you on a _date?" _Not that he wasn't glad there was no murderer. But he _really _didn't need to be there to sign off on Bones' date or give her pointers or anything. Like there was a chance in hell that he'd approve of _anybody _she'd date, anyway.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"What?" he asked, irritated.

"I thought you were supposed to get these things. I'm trying to seduce you."

His jaw dropped. "You're kidding."

"No."

"Are you sure you're okay? Did you hurt yourself? Some kind of head injury?" Now he was concerned again.

She frowned. "I wonder if I got something wrong. I did all the things that Angela suggested. But she said you'd be falling at my feet, and you are distinctly upright."

He was dreaming. He must be. In a minute his alarm would go off and he'd have to roll out of bed and go to work, grumbling the whole way about how this woman managed to confuse him as much in his dreams as she did in real life. He closed his eyes tightly, then forced them open, hard. Nope. Still in Bones' apartment. He spoke slowly. "Maybe I'd understand better if we sat down and you explained it to me."

Smiling brightly, she nodded. Explaining was something she was good at. She turned on her heels to lead him to the couch, and he couldn't help but notice how the edges of the nightgown just barely covered her rounded bottom as she walked. A spell of mild dizziness hit him, and he was thankful to sit. "Alright. Help me out here, Bones."

"Okay," she nodded. "Do you remember Christmas Eve? When Caroline had us kiss under the mistletoe?"

No, he didn't remember. It couldn't possibly have been replaying on a loop in his mind since that day. And he _certainly _hadn't thought about doing it again. Many times. Sighing, he shook his head in the affirmative.

"I know I told you and Caroline that it felt fraternal. But I believe that saying this was a result of the embarrassment I felt about the circumstances of the kiss, not my true reaction. Later, I acknowledged to myself that my true reaction was sexual arousal."

He swallowed hard. Just keep talking, Bones.

"So this made me think that it was possible that you and I might be sexually compatible. I told Angela this and she suggested all of what you see here." She gestured around. "And everything in the bedroom."

Booth blinked. "There's more in the bedroom?"

She nodded.

What came out of his mouth next was instinctual. "Can I see?" Immediately afterwards, he mentally smacked himself. Why had he said that? What did they say about curiosity? It killed that FBI agent? It just might.

But before he could backpedal she had stood and beckoned him, leading with that hypnotic sway to her hips that he felt helpless not to follow. She brought him to the entrance of her bedroom and looked up at him expectantly while he gaped at the scene. More candles. Rose petals all over the bed. Strawberries and a bowl of damn whipped cream on the nightstand. He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

"So what do you think?" she asked, a little nervously.

"Well, jeez, Bones…" He still wasn't entirely convinced that the Candid Camera crew wasn't going to pop out of her closet any minute. But her eyes were so earnest and hopeful that the thought she was teasing him seemed impossible. "The…atmosphere is great. But there's more to seduction than that, you know, right?"

Her head cocked curiously. "No, I don't know. Usually I'm quite forward with my intentions, but I assumed that the procedure would be different since we already had a close relationship."

Procedure? He sighed. "Come sit down." He sat on the bed and patted the spot next to him, clearing the rose petals away with his hand, and she obediently followed. "I'm really flattered that you did all this for me. But I had ho…." He corrected himself. "I would _think _that if we…you know, were _together…_it would be more romantic."

"I thought this _was _romance."

"This is…romantic _stuff. _But _you _have to be romantic, too."

"How?"

She was trying to kill him. She had to be. "Bones, I don't think it's appropriate to…"

"No," she interrupted. "Obviously I've gone about this the wrong way. I need to learn so that next time, I can get it better."

Okay, then. Can't argue with that logic. "Well, it isn't wrong. It would have been good though if maybe…instead of explaining to me the _procedure _of everything, you told me how you felt about me, and why you thought this was a good step for us."

She appeared to be considering for awhile, and it was surreal to be sitting her in her bedroom with her practically naked while her expression mirrored the one she wore when turning over a particularly interesting piece of scientific evidence. "Oh, I see. I think." He was relieved to be off the hook. Then: "Can you show me?"

"What?"

"I think it would be easier for me to understand if you went first, then I could reciprocate."

Jesus. He really should tell her to get dressed, that this wasn't the right time or place or _person _to do this with. But he couldn't. The words physically wouldn't leave his lips. He cleared his throat. "I guess…it would go something like…." Well now he couldn't turn back. Just a little awkwardly, he angled his body towards hers, took her hands in his and rested them on his lap. He'd give her a little lesson in romance, then he'd leave. Anything else would just be taking advantage. "Bones…Temperance…we've, um, we've been working together for awhile, and over that time, it's really exceptional how much I've come to care about you. I treasure our friendship, and would never want to do anything to compromise that. But I can't help but feel…" His mouth was on autopilot now. "I can't help but feel that there might be more there…more than just partnership, or friendship. It feels like we might really be _good _together, and I want the chance to try that with you. I want the opportunity to show you just how amazing I think you are, how beautiful. I want to be able to touch you and kiss you. And I'm telling you this in the hopes that you'll let me show you how much you mean to me." When he stopped talking, he realized that he had not a clue what had come out of his mouth. All he could see were her big round eyes staring at him, and all he could feel were her fingers clutching at his hands. Suddenly, she snatched them away.

"You know what? This is silly. You were right, it's really not appropriate, and I'm sorry I pulled you into it. Thanks for playing along for awhile, but it's okay. You should go." She stood, eyes flicking from side to side as if looking for something to cover herself or an escape hatch, before she fled from the room.

Booth was overwhelmed by a minute of confusion at her change of pace, which was followed by a much more intense feeling of annoyance. Standing up, he went after her, following her into the living room once more, which its dim lights and sensual music belying the tension that now filled the space between these walls. "You seriously want me to _leave _now? You set up this whole seduction routine, and when I try to help you with it, you kick me out?"

She nodded furiously. "I'm sorry for inconveniencing you…"

"No," he said forcefully, and she looked at him with surprise.

"No?"

"I'll leave if you want me to. But you told me if I showed you romance, you'd show me, too. Now I'm hanging out there, all by myself, and I'm not gonna leave until we're on an even playing field again."

Her saucer-like eyes looked genuinely taken aback. "Booth, I can't…I won't…I don't know how to talk like that. I just thought we could have sex. That's all. Why do you have to make it about anything else?"

For some reason, that bothered him more than anything. He took a step closer to her, and she would have fallen backwards if the back of the couch hadn't been there to block her. His fingers took hold of her chin, forced her gaze to be turned toward him. "Seriously, Bones? 'Just sex'? Like that kiss under the mistletoe was 'just a kiss?' Like we are 'just partners?' I _know _that you know better." She stayed silent, and he tilted his head at her. "Did you set this up so I could prove that to you?"

Her voice had a slight quiver. "I don't know why I set this up anymore."

In that moment, his brain had to make a snap decision about what to feel. And it abandoned the anger with nary a second thought. His hand left her chin to cup her cheek. "Bones. Let me."

"Let you what?" she whispered. She was buying time.

"Let me show you."

"Booth, I don't see how a single sexual encounter can prove anyth…"

He couldn't let her play this game anymore. She let out a small cry when his lips connected with hers, gently, but firmly, thumb brushing against her silken cheek. Her lips felt incredibly soft, and he could tell she hadn't been able to resist those strawberries she put out earlier, as the sweet taste remained on her mouth. She yielded to him, and he felt the tip of her tongue touch his. He groaned softly and pulled back, leaving her with a surprised and dazed look on her face.

"Dance with me."

"Here?" she asked incredulously.

"You put on the music." He took her hand and led her to the center of the room. It occurred to him that although they had shared several small touches, hugs, and yes, kisses in their relationship, he had never been able to hold her hand the way he would have liked to: palm to palm, fingers laced, looking into her eyes. As his right hand closed over her left, he suddenly found it a little hard to swallow. "What is it?" His other hand caressed the small of her back as he guided her.

"The Miles Davis Quintet," she replied a little shakily, allowing him to move her slowly in the dance. The syncopated rhythms did not lend themselves well to keeping time, but it mattered little, since neither could hear much over one another's slightly quickened breathing, and the pounding of their own hearts.

"Angela chose well."

She looked a little offended. "I chose the music."

"Maybe you know more about romance then you think you do." They swayed from side to side. Brennan's face flushed a bit, and she turned her head slightly to rest on his shoulder. He was slightly disappointed; her face looked particularly soft and sweet in the candlelight, and he had been enjoying the view.

"Putting it together, I felt like I was just going through the motions."

"Do you feel like you are going through the motions now?" His hand added the slightest amount of pressure to her back, bringing their hips closer together, and was pleased to hear her sharp intake of breath.

"This really might not be…" Having already found the best way to cut through her emotion-driven doubts, he dipped his head and caught her lips again, taking the liberties that he had held back from under the mistletoe and holding her closer, deepening it. This time, when he felt her tongue against his, he encouraged it, moving his against hers in its own dance. Her mouth was so incredibly responsive to his. Somehow, he had known that as cold as Bones pretended to be sometimes, she was molten hot underneath. Did she really expect him to have a cold, clinical sexual encounter with her, spurred on by jazz and rose petals? If there was one thing he would teach her tonight, it was that all those things were frivolous details that surrounded the centerpiece of romance—true caring. Reacting to these thoughts, he did the next thing that felt right, which was bending over to slide one arm under her knees and scoop her up, kissing her the whole time to silence her protests that she didn't need to be carried, thank you very much. Luckily, she was easily distracted.

In the bedroom, he laid her down gently, atop the flowers that were scattered across the sheets. Several of the petals clung to her hair, and he stroked them away. "Do you still want me to leave?"

She was biting one kiss-swollen lip, obviously thrown by the direction this had all taken. She had been the one to orchestrate this, and now it seemed reeling out of her control. But he _knew _she didn't want him to leave. A woman wanting him to leave wouldn't kiss him like that. Wouldn't be looking at him like that. In confirmation, she shook her head. No. Don't leave.

"Let's try this again, then," he said softly. Lifting one velvety petal from the bed, he trapped it between the pad of his finger and the side of her neck. Carefully, he began tracing it down her throat, to her chest, and down her arm and up again, making her quiver. "Temperance. I feel things for you. And this is just one of the ways I'm going to show you that. I want it to make us stronger. Tell me this will be good for us." His finger caught on one of the slim straps of her nightgown and pushed it down, allowing him to trace the swell of her breast with the sweetly-scented petal. Dropping his head, he allowed his lips to follow the path of the petal, and she cried out. And, surprisingly, spoke to him, honestly.

"I feel things for you, too. I don't know what this is going to be. But I want to try."

All the hearts and roses and champagne and chocolate in the universe couldn't have been any sweeter to him than her words were. He kissed her hard on the mouth at the same time as his fingers slipped under the satiny fabric of her nightgown, stroking her with the rose petal for a long minute before tiring of being unable to feel her skin. When he dropped the flower, he was briefly confused before realizing that her breasts had almost the exactly same, impossibly soft texture as the rose. He swallowed her whimpers as his fingers trapped one swollen nipple between them, contracting and tugging lightly at her. "I want to see you," he told her, in a voice that came out like a growl, and he made a note to talk to her more gently. But if she was frightened by his intensity, she didn't show this; rather, she slipped the offending straps down and off her shoulders, baring herself to him and guiding his mouth to her. Apparently, she liked the growling. Now, he made a note to do it more often.

Despite his inclinations towards romance, he had to fight the urge not to ravish her. After all, he had been wanting her for a long while. If he had ever been in denial about that, the defense was washed away in his lust and adoration of her. But he wanted to prove something to her. So he gathered up everything inside of himself and went slowly. He teased her more with the rose petals, gathering them up and letting them fall softly over her body, then tracing them off with his fingertips. He took the strawberries from her bedside, dipped them in whipped cream, and drew designs on her chest and tummy before licking them away and offering her half of the berry from his mouth, kissing her, tasting the intoxicating mix of roses and berries and cream and Temperance Brennan. He opened the champagne that she had been chilling, poured a glass, taking mouthfuls and making her giggle when he graced her body with open-mouthed kisses with the fizzy liquid, tickling her. Her giggles turned to gasps when he turned his attention to the parts of her that had been hidden by her black silk panties, his tongue and a thousand tiny bubbles stimulating her into a near-frenzy. Hours later, he felt lightheaded, on top of the world as he got her arching off the bed into every touch. They were both overly ready, but he needed to make _sure._

"Booth," she sighed. "Let's see. Let's see how good." He got the vague impression that she had already started to figure out just how good. He hoped so, in any case. Because making her body respond this way was making him feel like king of the fucking mountain.

Then, he eased his way inside of her, and her eyes locked with his. And suddenly, it was _her _showing _him _what romance was.

Everything he thought he wanted with a woman…Valentine's Day and anniversaries and walks in the rain, fancy dinners and good wine, boxes of chocolate and kisses in public…all those things wouldn't mean anything if whoever he was with wasn't looking at him exactly like Bones was looking at him now. Now it was he who fought the urge to turn away from the intensity of her gaze, gripping at her hips to keep her from moving and making him lose the last shreds of control he had maintained. But it felt like she was swallowing the entirety of his body with hers. He was in her. And she was in him. Completely. And she was making little noises that were very nearly undoing him.

Mostly to distract himself from the nearly overwhelming feelings, he talked to her. Told her how desirable he found her, how special and gorgeous, told her how long he had wanted her and all the times he had wanted to kiss her but had held back. And the whole time, even as her body responded to his slow thrusts and gentle stroking, her darkened eyes studied him, seeming to absorb all the honesty he was pouring out and into her. Finally, he told her breathlessly, "Bones, I want to do this with you all night long, but if you keep looking at me like that things are gonna be over in a hurry."

Her ankles were crossed over his ass, urging him faster, deeper. "Booth," she whispered. "Stop trying to prove something. Just do what you feel."

That's when he lost it, his mouth crashing down on hers as he desperately pumped into her as deeply as he could, finding the places that no one else had touched, taking them for his own. Feeling him give up his control, she gave up hers as well. Feeling Temperance Brennan orgasm in his arms, with him inside her, was instantly counted as one of the top three thrilling experiences of his life. _That _was romance, was his dizzying last thought before he exploded. He had thought he was seeing stars, right before he realized he was only looking into her eyes again.

He wouldn't let her go for a long while, and she seemed content to let him be her blanket, lying connected with her, giving her soft kisses across her forehead and cheeks and nose. At long last, she chuckled softly. "We can't stay like this forever, you know."

"Why not?"

She sighed. "Because all research results indicate that romance is fleeting and dependent on external contexts that are constantly in flux."

He had no doubt that she could give him direct citations, so he didn't bother to argue with her. "Romance might be fleeting," he conceded. "But love lasts forever."

She rolled her eyes at him. "A dance and a little bit of champagne and whipped cream and you think you're in love?"

"No. The fact that I put up with your crazy, frustrating, sexy ass makes me think that."

Considering, she shrugged slightly. "I guess that makes sense."

"Really?"

"Sure. Who needs romance when you've got competition, dead bodies and constant bickering?"

Chuckling, he nodded at the validity of her statement. They could argue all night about the meaning of true romance. But the fact was that things she mentioned would always, for better or worse, be their hearts and flowers.

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**A/N: My boss promises me that if I get lots and lots of reviews for this chapter, that he will let me build more writing time into my schedule, because it is so obviously an important part of what I do. Okay, he didn't say that. But I'm more likely to **_**sneak **_**writing time if I'm feeling inspired. And you all are **_**so **_**good at that inspiring thing. Loves it. Thanks:)**

**Next up: More Be With Me!**


	21. Humor in the Office

**A/N: This might be more ridiculous than humorous, but whatevs. Um. It's my story. Lol, I've been saying that a lot lately, huh? Anyways, I had fun with it. The hysterical paroxysm thing is totally true, for those who wonder. Silly repressed Victorians. Hope **_**you **_**have fun with it! **

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_Humor in the Office: 2nd Person Brennan_

You weren't one to use colloquialisms. But if you were, you thought you'd definitely say that this situation sucked. Bit the big one. Blew big time. In fact, you couldn't easily recall a time when you were quite as frustrated as you were right now. And while you typically prided yourself on keeping your emotions in check, you apparently weren't doing very well at it right now, because your best friend was looking at you with daggers in her eyes. Try as you might, you couldn't disguise the irritation in your voice.

"Ange, you have to hold it so that the concentrated beam falls directly on the anomalous structure. No, _that's _the anomalous structure. A fraction of an inch to the top left. Turn it….no, not _that _far. It's…no, you aren't _doing _it right."

"Bren, I know nothing about bones. This isn't my field. I'm the wrong one to be helping you with this."

"Well Zack is occupied with his own project and isn't available to assist me."

Angela looked at you with a hint of desperation in her eyes. "Sweetie, why don't you just take a few days off? This is no way to work. In a week or so, you'll be back to normal, and you won't need help." _And I won't be feeling the urge to strangle you,_ was the unspoken message on her face.

"There's too much work to do. And I can't be at home. I'll go crazy there."

"You're driving _me _crazy here."

"Fine Ange. Why don't you just go draw your little pictures then." You felt bad as soon as the words left your mouth, but you couldn't help yourself. This was intolerable.

Angela's eyes narrowed. "What is _with _you? This goes way beyond a medical inconvenience."

How would _she _know? It's not like a person often considered what life would be like without the use of their hands. And even if they did, it would be mostly impossible to comprehend it. Certainly you wouldn't have been able to, if there hadn't been that unfortunate chemical spill in the lab that you had thought was mere water, so you immediately dropped to your knees to sop it up with a paper towel, pressing both palms into it to soak it up faster. The searing pain you felt told you immediately that it wasn't water, and you got to the irrigation unit to rinse it off as fast as you could. Nonetheless, the angry red blisters rose in seconds. Somehow, they didn't even seem as bad as the yards of white material that bandaged your hands now, effectively immobilizing you in your work and your writing. And everything else.

Everything else, which no one else but Angela probably would have thought of. Her anger melted into sympathy as she studied you. "Aw, Sweetie. I get it. It's not just about work at all. You don't have anybody to take _care _of you."

You scowled. "I've been getting by at home just fine. It's not easy, but I've figured out some things."

"No, not like that. Women have _needs, _Bren. And while I'm a firm believer that a woman doesn't need a man to please her, it's just not the _same _when you don't have your fingers."

"Oh my God, Ange." You rolled your eyes. Leave it to your best friend to come up with _that _reason for your bad mood.

"I'm serious. This is obviously a problem with intense sexual frustration."

"It's not. I just want to do my work."

"I'm not working with you until you get this sorted out. I wish I could help you, Sweetie. But there are some things a girlfriend just can't assist with. So get it worked out, and come talk to me when you are feeling better."

"Angela, don't you dare walk out that do…" Your command wasn't finished before the door slammed behind your friend, leaving you useless in your own lab. You were surprised by the near-growl that left your throat before you stormed into your office, slammed the door behind you much like Angela had, and collapsed in frustration on your couch, bandaged hands covering your eyes. God, it _had _been a long time. Usually you could depend on your work to distract you from your need for emotional and physical intimacy. But lately, that hadn't been an option.

You weren't sure how long you laid there feeling sorry for yourself before you heard your door open. "Word of mouth is that you are in a _bad _way."

"Then why don't you leave, Booth," you groused, struggling to a sitting position without being able to put weight on your hands. "I can't be of any assistance on a case, I'm bad company, and I'm not in the mood to be messed with."

"Yikes," he said breezily, striding into your office despite your brusqueness and sprawling out beside you on the couch. "What are you on with those things, Bones?" he said, referring to your bandages. "Week 2?"

"Almost."

"Aren't handling it very well, huh?"

You glared at him. "No, Booth. For some reason, being completely without the use of several major appendages isn't as exciting and fun as I thought it would be. Maybe next time I try to disable myself, I'll go for blindness."

"Angela was right about you. Jeez."

"You talked to Angela? Fabulous. She probably has you convinced that I'm some sort of pathetic, sex-starved cat in heat."

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Whoa. What? She just told me that you were in a bad mood."

You were too morose to even be appropriately embarrassed. "Oh."

"Is that the problem here?" His gaze was sympathetic. You wanted to punch him.

"Don't you start, Booth. Two weeks from now, I _won't _be sexually frustrated, and you all will _still _be getting on my nerves."

"This is worse than I thought," he sighed.

"Shut up."

"Bones. You're hard up. You're going to have to deal with it."

It was too much. This whole conversation was driving you crazy. You had to stop it. And what came out of your mouth was the most childish, unprofessional thing that you had ever said in your whole life. You weren't even sure where you picked it up from. It just came out.

"Bite me."

Booth stared at you for a second, then burst out laughing. "Alright, Bones. That's enough of that." He removed his jacket. Then he put his hand on your leg. You nearly jumped out of your skin.

"What do you think you're _doing?"_

"What friends do. Help each other out."

"Oh, _no, _Booth. You aren't helping me out…in _that _way." Through your pants, his palm on your thigh sent waves of tingling sensations all the way down your leg and back up to your groin. You were defiant in the face of this. Still, he didn't take his hand away. He slid closer to you.

"You know how they used to treat anxiety and neuroses in women back in the Victorian Age?" he asked you. He leaned over and spoke softly, soothingly in your ear, and his fingers made small circles on the inside of your thigh. You should have elbowed him. But you didn't. "Doctors would have special implements only available to the medical community—electromechanical vibrating devices used for 'pelvic massage.' They would induce 'hysterical paroxysm' that seemed to work wonders on all those annoying symptoms."

"Orgasm," you said, feeling a little faint, fighting the growing desire in your belly with all you had.

"Yes. But they couldn't call it that, of course. That would mean acknowledging that it was sexual, and not purely medical."

What he was saying sunk in slowly. "I am _not _neurotic. And this is very unprofessional," you told him weakly, ignoring the fact that while he had begun to toy with the zipper to your pants, you had begun wriggling to help him get them off.

"Take your medicine, Bones." His hands slipped down the back of your now-open pants, pushing them down over your ass which you raised up for him, and then returning to give you a squeeze. A whimper emanated from the back of your throat. You tried one more time to hang onto your irritation and protests.

"I don't need you to do me any favo…"

He cut you off, firmly. "Bones. Do you want to feel better?"

Startled by his forcefulness, you nodded immediately, without thinking.

"Then lay back and shut up."

You did something then that you had never done before. You immediately obeyed him, and he pulled off your shoes and worked your pants and panties down the rest of the way. Eyes rolled backwards, you tried to comprehend what was happening here. _Was _this happening? Yes. He was definitely smoothing his hands down the inside of your thighs, lifting you gently so that he could move you back and adjust himself between your legs. In your office, on your couch. Booth.

"You're really very pretty," he said, thoughtfully, gazing at you before lowering his head and gently kissing the tender skin of your thighs. The stubble on his face was a scintillating irritation against you. Your muscles twitched.

"Booth…"

"Shh." He blew a soft stream of warm air across your throbbing sex. Would it be embarrassing if you came right then, just from that minimal stimulation? Whatever. You didn't care. You thrust upwards towards his face, eagerly. "Relax," he spoke hypnotically. The tip of his tongue darted out to taste your trembling entrance. "This will be much more satisfying if you let it build." Then his lips gently closed around your clit and applied a gentle suction, making you stuff a bandaged hand half into your mouth to stifle your groan. In the back of your mind, he wondered if he had locked the door when he came in. Again, the conclusion you came to was whatever. You didn't care.

His tongue rasped over your clit. "That good?" he asked softly. You glared down at him for having the audacity to talk right now, but found yourself transfixed by the scene. For all your efforts to perceive Seeley Booth as your colleague and friend, there was no denying that he looked _damn good _between your legs. Another rush of colloquialisms ran through your head. Blowing your mind. Sexy as sin. Fucking your brains out. You had been spending too much time with Angela. He was good at this. Hot, slippery, smooth wetness massaging these long-neglected parts of yourself, making you whine with need, bringing the tension inside you to an almost unbearable level. When he added a finger to his stimulation, swirling and stroking inside of you, you nearly let out a scream.

"You'll have to let me know…when those paroxysms start," he teased gently between kisses to your near-exploding sex. "So I don't have to bill you…for extra time."

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up," you cursed between gritted teeth. Damn your useless hands. It would be nice just to shove his mouth back onto you, where it was much more useful.

"I'm not sure whether I like your dirty talk better, or those sexy little sounds you were making before." You made sure it was the latter by clamping your reddened thighs around his head and crossing your ankles across his back. Taking the hint, he wrapped his lips around the most sensitive part of you once more, swirling his tongue. You had a brief but effective fantasy about being a woman in the Victorian Era (which would, by itself and in other circumstances be a nightmare), visiting Dr. Booth in his office to treat her anxiety and finding the experience much more pleasant that she had anticipated.

That did the trick. The first paroxysm hit you with Mack truck force. Your hips rolled and you groaned into your bandages, garbled words that fell somewhere between 'Please God please' and 'Screw you, you bastard.' There was something infuriating about his ability to make you come so hard in your own private house of science. Something infuriating, and something hot.

He nudged you from the inside and the outside while he worked to draw out your release, either ignoring or not caring about your insults. That was one of the things you always liked about him. Eventually your words dissolved into gasps and soft pants, which he encouraged with soft kisses.

"Better?" he asked, rubbing his cheek against the inside of your leg almost tenderly. But a glance down evidenced a familiar, cocky look in his eyes.

"I didn't _need _that," you huffed, feeling disappointed when his fingers slipped out of you.

"So it didn't work?"

You glanced at your swathed hands. "No. They're still there," you said sarcastically.

Booth sighed dramatically. "You are an impossible woman, you know," he said. Regretfully, he picked up his jacket from the back of the couch and shrugged it on. Your eyes widened as he made to stand up and leave.

"Wait."

He looked down at you. You weren't quite sure what to say.

"Sometimes, it takes more than one dose to achieve therapeutic effect," you said in a small voice.

He stared for a second, before a slow smile crossed his face. "So that's what we'll do? Continue to call it therapy?"

"Yes."

"What'll we do when your hands are better?"

"I'll break yours."

"Ah." With a grin, he lowered himself back down and pressed those wonderful lips on yours for the first time. Before you gave yourself over to the feeling, one last colloquialism passed through your mind.

Living in a dream world.

Whatever. You didn't care. Therapy, it would be.

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**A/N: Hottest line in the story comes from Kinsey Jo: "Lay back and shut up." Lol. Loves it. She's my girl.**

**Ooh, you like how I decided that this little encounter still counts as a first time? I decided to open my mind a little bit to the definition of sex. And I can. Because it's my story. Heehee.**

**Next up: Um. I don't know. What do **_**you **_**want? More Be With Me? Valentine cuteness from NBI? Another crazy-ass Scene? Let me know. Trust me, you **_**don't **_**want to leave it up to my mood;)**


	22. Angst in a Car

**A/N: Oooooh. You fluff bunnies aren't gonna like this very much. I'll warn you right now, so if you don't think your heart can take the angst, you might wanna skip this one. As always, I blame the hat and deny any responsibility on my own part. However, this **_**is **_**the last angst story of this little project, so you can expect more cuteness in the future. Power through, my bunnies. Of course, if you are an **_**angst-**_**whore…then eat your heart out;)**

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_Angst in a Car: 3__rd__ Person_

Nothing in the universe had a right to feel so natural, when it was supposed to be wrong. Supposed to be a mistake. How could a mistake feel so much like heaven? No, more than heaven…_home. _Like he was exactly at the spot where he was meant to be. Reality would have told him that this particular spot wasn't here at all…it was hundred miles away. In the house he had bought a year ago. With his wife. But he was good at denial, and he used that skill right now to block out all the fear and guilt and the part of him that knew better. All that was left was soft, champagne-flavored lips and silky skin and the frantic kisses that he had longed for since before he could even remember. All there was left was the person who was once his partner, beside him in the tiny space that was their only sanctuary, making him remember all the desperate passion that had frightened him away before.

His wife had been worried about him coming here to New York. Although she had tried to disguise it with teasing, Seeley Booth was familiar enough with fear to recognize it in someone's voice. "I don't know, Seeley. Going to your ex-girlfriend's wedding? Is that something I have to lose sleep over?"

The first reaction was one of amusement. "I can pretty much guarantee that this invitation isn't some kind of last-ditch effort to get me back, Jen. That's not Camille's style," he told her gently, smiling. She seemed to accept his reassurances, but clung to him for an extra second before he left. He wondered, not for the first time, what he had ever done or said to make her insecure about their relationship.

His flight got in late, and he got to the church at the last minute. The usher seemed confused about what to do with a single man, and pointed to one of the back pews on the bride's side. Sliding in, his eyes worked like lasers on the heads in front of him. He recognized them almost immediately. His old team. Together, as they always were. Hodgins had let his hair grow back, he saw, while Angela's was shorter. The bug guy had a smile on his face every time he turned to whisper in his wife's ear, and Booth regretted not having been able to attend _their _uninterrupted wedding. Zack's lanky form was next to Angela, with another guy in a suit on his right. A date, Booth assumed. He felt an uncomfortable happiness for the kid. Cam had told him about Zack's coming out, shortly after he left. He had replied, "Good for him. People need to be themselves." And he had meant it.

Then, there was her. Bones. Sitting up straight, hair done neatly in a half-up, half-down style. Tilting her head just a little to listen intently to the dark-haired man beside her. Her boyfriend? Maybe just a date. He wasn't sure. He never asked Cam about Bones' personal life, and Cam never volunteered. It was like an unspoken agreement. Now, everything in him seized up at the sight of her. He felt vaguely nauseous. Throwing up at a wedding; not on his list of things to do here.

He went through the motions. Stood up when Cam entered, dressed all in white and looking beautiful, watched while she joined her husband-to-be and they said their vows. When it was over, he scampered through the receiving line, greeting Cam's parents and brothers, kissing her cheek and congratulating her and her new partner in life. She asked if he was coming to the reception, and the thought nearly sent him into a panic attack. But that is what he came here for, wasn't it? To celebrate his friend's marriage, with all his old friends. Yes. And to make amends.

They were surprised to see him. He walked up to the table with a crooked grin. Angela gasped and near-leaped into his arms. Zack and Hodgins played it much cooler, but smiled broadly as they shook his hand, their 'how ya been's?' and 'we've missed you's' sounding mostly genuine. Bones stayed in her seat. Waiting for the hubbub to die down. She looked at him with icy eyes, and he had to force himself to meet them.

"Hey, stranger," she said softly. The group looked at them expectantly, even Bones could see that, so she rose, looking deceptively delicate in her long, shimmery lilac dress. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders for a brief hug. "I wasn't expecting you," she said.

"Couldn't stay away forever," he half-joked. She began to release him, and he fought off a sudden urge to pull her back flush against him and hold on for dear life.

"Though you might try." It felt like a taunt.

He sat and allowed himself to be pulled into niceties of social gatherings. Angela demanded he show them pictures of his wife (later, he told her, there was one out in the car), and shared with him that she and Jack were beginning to try to have a baby. "I can't believe we had to find out from _Cam _that you got married," she scolded him, and he told her that the wedding was sort of a last-minute thing and no one had been forewarned. He was introduced to the strangers at the table. Zack's date Marcus, a computer technician with a soft but commanding voice. Brennan's boyfriend Oliver. He was a cardiologist. He called Bones "T" with an easy familiarity , and could quote baseball stats accurately all the way back to the 60's. Good-looking, intelligent, and well-rounded. Perfect for Bones.

After the cake was cut and the toasts were made, the night felt to be a flurry of activity. He made small-talk with his seat-mates, went out on the dance floor twice (once by choice—it was the dollar dance—and another time coerced by Angela). His eyes remained glued on the figure in lilac moving gracefully about the dance floor with her dark-haired boyfriend. He had to talk to her before the night was over. Had to make things right.

He saw his chance when she separated from the group to make a trip to the bar…not her first. Excusing himself from his company, he followed her. "Thought you were a wine girl," he said, after she had her vodka on the rocks in her hand. She turned to him, surprised.

"Usually. But this is a special occasion. Cam is married. And Seeley Booth has made his reunion tour with his old gang at the Jeffersonian." She sounded drunk. This probably wasn't the best time to have this conversation.

"Bones, I know you're mad at me."

She stirred at her drink. "Mad isn't the right word. Not after almost 3 years. More like, disappointment, and mild disgust."

He winced. "I guess I deserved that."

She shrugged in a way that said 'Yes. Yes, you did.'

"I know I owe you an explanation." He expected her to protest, but she didn't.

"Yeah, maybe you can resolve some of my burning curiosities. Like how one day, we were having a great time, celebrating the 3 year anniversary of our partnership and another solved case, and how the next day—_literally _the next day—I get a call telling me that I have a new partner, since mine had been granted his _requested _reassignment and was moving halfway across the country."

The day she was talking about replayed in his mind like a video on fast forward.

_They had sat in the diner for hours, drinking coffee after coffee, both reluctant to be the one who brought up that it was late and they should probably leave. They were talking about all the things that had and hadn't changed in the past three years._

"_You don't call me Rat Bastard anymore," he pointed out, grinning. "That's an improvement."_

"_You still call Bones."_

"_And you don't stop me."_

_She had looked mildly embarrassed. "I decided to choose my battles more carefully."_

"_Ah."_

"_You aren't nearly as hard on Zack as you used to be."_

"_Kid grew on me. You went from hunting your own food to becoming a vegetarian."_

"_It's really a much healthier lifestyle, Booth."_

"_Not eating meat takes the 'living' out of 'lifestyle.'" He grinned at her. "But if it makes you happy, Bones, I'm happy for you."_

_Her eyes rolled. "We both have become more accepting of things that fall outside our immediate realm of experience, I think. Seeing value in different ways of being."_

"_Do you know what I just heard you say? I just heard you say that you believed in my gut."_

"_That's not what I said."_

"_That's what I heard." Her cheeks tinged pink in frustration for just a moment before she realized he was kidding with her. She smiled, that lovely smile that he saw so rarely._

_She decided to change the topic. "You know one thing that hasn't changed?" He raised his eyebrows in question. "Our devotion to what we do. It's the most important thing in our lives."_

_He frowned. "Well. Not _the _most important thing."_

_Her face was impassive. "Yes. It is."_

"_No way, Bones. There's lots of other things. Friends. Family. Spirituality."_

"_You mean to tell me," she began, head cocked, "that if you were with friends, or family, or at church, you wouldn't run for the door the second you heard that we had a case? That there was a murder to be solved?"_

"_Well, I…" He stopped. He _had _done that exact thing. Many times._

"_That's what I thought," she had said, seriously._

_That night, he had an epiphany about just how right she was. There were things he wanted in his life, always had wanted…a family. Kids. A house. An advancement in his career, in his life. And as long as he was here, with her, he would never have those things. Because this job…and her, as an extension…would always be his priority, his focus. As long as he remained here, his life would revolve around Temperance Brennan. The realization had nearly sent him into panic. There were two things in life he desperately wanted. One of them (one with blue eyes and killer legs and a couple of Ph.D.'s), he couldn't have. The other, he could…but only if he broke away. Away from here, and away from her. It was the only way. _

"Bones…" Her tipsy gaze nearly paralyzed him. "Something we talked about that last night at the diner…it got to me. You made me realize that my work with you had become my life, and I didn't want that. I have a son. A family. A _life. _And thinking about that scared the crap out of me. Made me remember what it was like to have an addiction."

"You were addicted to your job?" She looked doubtful.

"Maybe. I don't know. I just felt like I had to get away. Clear my head. Remember what was important."

"Did you?"

"I like to think so." He offered her a small smile. "But…I never forgot everything here. Or stopped missing it. Or you."

She crossed her arms, as if fending off his charm. "You left, Booth. Without telling me. And you haven't talked to me for almost 2 years."

"I'm so sorry, Bones. I…I was afraid."

"Of me? You thought I would hurt you, or what?"

He laughed a little. "Yeah, that." She smiled slightly, her first of the night, and he felt encouraged. "But mostly, afraid because I knew you could convince me to come back. I had to get more secure in that new life before I could face you."

Her smile faded. "You were…are…my friend, Booth. You know all I ever wanted was for you to be happy," she said softly. "If you would have told me that's what you needed to do…" She trailed off.

"I'm sorry. It's all I have to say. I'm sorry." Her face still looked a little inebriated, but much softer than when she had first spun around to face him. "Truce?" he said hopefully, holding out his hand. She looked at it suspiciously for a moment…before reaching out to take it. Her soft palm was enveloped by his.

"Fine. I guess."

"Well thank _God." _She laughed, thinking he was being overdramatic, although his relief was genuine. He felt lighter than he had…well, in years. Suddenly, he pulled the vodka from her hand and downed it all in two gulps. She watched amusedly as he wiped his mouth and sat the glass back on the bar. "Dance with me," he told her.

"Why?"

"Because we need to have a celebratory Booth-and-Bones-are-friends-again dance." Without waiting for an answer, he dragged her back to the dance floor, where the band was playing a bad rendition of "We Are Family." And they danced. They danced and laughed their way through the song, and he spun her and dipped her, and when the next song came on, they danced again. He couldn't believe how free he felt, his having confessed his guilt to her, having her accept it and (sort of) forgive him. His energy was boundless. With her in his arms, he could do anything.

Five songs later, it was Angela who interrupted them. "It's great to see you getting along so famously again, Sweeties," she yelled over the music. "But I think a few guests are missing you. It's getting late." They looked at each other, eyes sparkling.

"Guess she's right," Bones told him. They made their way back to the table, out of breath, stumbling just a little.

"You guys were really cutting a rug out there, T," Oliver commented, slipping his arm around Brennan when she sat.

"It's been awhile since we could have some fun," Bones explained to him. Booth smiled at her.

"Hey, you promised us pictures!" Angela said, drawing him from his tipsy reverie.

"Huh?"

"Pictures. Of your wife."

Jen. Suddenly, he felt every inch of the distance between him and his new life. "Oh. Yeah. Let me run out to the car."

Brennan stood too. "I'll go with you. I'm a little overheated. A walk will do me good."

Booth nodded agreeably. Oliver took her hand and kissed it. "Don't be too long."

They pushed their way out the doors to the dark night, the chill hitting them immediately. "God, that feels good," she sighed.

"It's going to start feeling really cold by the time we walk back."

"I'll deal with that when I have to."

His car was in the far corner of the large parking lot, and it took a minute to reach. They walked in companionable silence. When they reached it, she spoke up.

"Okay. Now, I'm cold."

"Told you," he chided gently. "Hop in. I have seat warmers. That'll get you ready for the trip back while I look for this picture."

They slid in and he turned on the car before opening the glove compartment. His hand brushed her lap. "Excuse me," he said, embarrassed.

"I can't believe that you and Ange _and _Cam are all married now."

"It's what people usually do, Bones."

"Yes, but it still feels strange. Things have changed so much."

"Not everything."

"Like what?" she asked. At that second, his rummaging knocked loose a small flashlight that had been in the glove compartment and sending it tumbling to the floor.

"Crap," he swore, and instinctively reached for it, effectively situating his upper body almost entirely in her lap before realizing just what he was doing. He looked upward toward her eyes, and they were inches away. Instantly, he was surrounded by everything that felt like her and smelled like her. A wave of dizziness hit him. He wanted to pull back. But he really, literally could not. He had been too long without her. "_You were addicted to your job?"_ she had asked him. _No, Bones. I was addicted to you. And I thought I had gotten over it. But I haven't._

"This is a bad idea," she whispered, shakily.

"God. I know," he whispered back.

"We shouldn't do this."

"I've missed you so much, Bones."

"Then you shouldn't have left." The anger was back in her voice.

"I know." The words dissolved into her lips as he kissed her, fingertips moving to the back of her neck to touch the damp hair there. A small whimper left her throat, and it near drove him wild.

Why now? There had been times, hundreds of times when they had moments that would have lended themselves to a kiss like this, tempting seconds that hung between them daring them to give into this powerful pull they both felt. And many of those times, they had actually been _single, _giving in wouldn't have hurt anybody. It wouldn't have been a sure disaster. But they chose _now. _Why in God's name would two intelligent, good people do that? And before denial kicked firmly into place, his own conscience answered him. _Because if you did it then, you would have had to face the possibility of a real relationship with her, you coward. You would have been forced to sort out your feelings, make decisions. And you were too chickenshit to do it. As disgusting as it is, this is safer, you cheating bastard. Now that it's impossible, it's safer._

Seeley Booth wasn't a cheater. It went against everything he stood for. But the woman in this car with him was his cocaine, his alcohol, his casino all rolled into one. He was weak in the face of her. And when she made a strangled noise and yanked him closer by the lapels of his jacket, thrusting her champagne-flavored tongue into his mouth, he lost it completely. It was over for him. He tasted every corner of her mouth, and after he had, he moved down to her throat and her shoulders, sucking the skin there, pushing down the thin straps of her lilac dress so there wouldn't be a single inch unavailable to him. She wore the same perfume as she did the last time he had seen her. He could taste it. Before Christmas this past year, he was shopping for presents at the fragrance counter of a department store, and the instant he sprayed this one, he got a hard-on. The thought of buying it for his wife briefly crossed his mind, and then a surge of guilt went through him that was so strong, he had to leave the store without any presents at all. He had forgotten about that. He forgot about it again, now.

The gear shift was pressing uncomfortably into his thigh, and twisted the way he was he couldn't get to the parts of her he wanted. Blindly grabbing below him, he found the lever that allowed his seat to slide back away from wheel. Finally having room, he reached for her, under her right hip, begging her to understand what he wanted. She did, and fought her way over the console, straddling him on his seat. He heard a tearing sound and knew at was the material of her dress, splitting as she opened her legs. She must have heard it too, but she didn't show it. She ground down and into him while he buried his face between her breasts, the skin there impossibly sweet and soft. It was she who wriggled out of the straps of her dress, exposing herself for him, to him. His mouth latched onto her breasts like a dying man needing water. She groaned. A thin coating of steam covered the windows, concealing them, making it seem like there was no other world except for the front seat of this car.

"Temperance…need you…want you…" he mumbled, working his way up from her breasts to her throat to her lips, his body responding eagerly to her own hands that had worked their way under his jacket and were feeling him all over. He thought he tasted the saltiness of tears on her face. He just kissed her harder.

One of her wonderful hands had somehow unbuttoned his pants and reached inside. Maybe the best thing that could happen to him would be if this ended now, in the palm of her hand, before it could go any further. But they were already too far gone. He brushed her hand away.

"Fuck me hard, Booth," she panted, and he knew she was talking that way to make it less intimate, and more sexual. It turned him on anyway. There was fumbling on both of their parts as they struggled to move aside all their clothing and get to each other. As his cock found its way home, he kissed her again, desperately, thinking he was swallowing her sobs before realizing he was crying too. The car filled with the sounds of their fevered rutting and wet kisses and the words of love and apology he moaned into her ear. The windows were completely fogged now. This was the only place they could ever be together. He howled outrage at the thought when he came inside of her, feeling her trembling around him as well. The way it was supposed to be. The wrong way.

She shook on him for awhile, clinging to him. She was saying something. It would require a return to reality to hear her. He _had _to return to reality. The whole exchange lasted maybe five minutes. To the people waiting for them inside, it probably felt like far too long already. "What have we done?" That's what she was saying. "What have we done?"

He helped her off of him, back to her side of the car. "Bones. This isn't…" He was going to tell her that this wasn't him. He wasn't a cheater. He wasn't someone who was trying to hurt her. But he realized that, at this moment, he had no idea who the hell he was anymore.

Her trembling hands had pulled down the visor mirror and were now rooting through her purse, looking for her makeup. It seemed so wrong now. They should be holding one another. But now they had to put themselves together so that their friends wouldn't know. They had to put the disguise back on. And he knew it had to be done, so he stopped trying to talk to her and went about fixing his clothes.

"The dress got caught in the door," she told him. He nodded in agreement at the lie. They looked at one another one last time, longingly. Then, she grabbed the door handle to let herself out of the car. He did the same, and was shocked by the temperature. He hadn't remembered it being this cold.

He started to follow her, before she turned on her heels. "The picture."

Of course. That's what they had come out here for. He opened the passenger side door once more, and found the picture easily. It had drifted to the floor in their fumbling. Walking back towards her, he looked at her sadly. Glancing down, she saw the photo.

"She's very beautiful, Booth."

She was. And very sweet, and smart, and kind. Her only fault was that she was not Temperance Brennan. He had wondered what he had ever done to make Jen so insecure about their relationship, and now he knew. It wasn't what he had done. It was what he couldn't give her. Couldn't give up from his past.

"It's gonna be okay, Bones," he said, softly, and put an arm around her to shield her from the biting cold.

"Okay," she echoed.

They were good at denial. And they used that skill right now to forget that nothing would ever be okay, ever again.

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**A/N: Um. Do you hate me? Don't hate me.**

**Thanks to Bella-mi-Amore for her look-over help.**


	23. Fantasy on a Pool Table

**A/N: I know, this story hasn't been updated in like, **_**forevah. **_**I may have been putting it off for the sheer silliness of these fantasy chaps. But apparently, some people just lurve these. And, I suppose it's a welcome break after the angstastic-ness of the last one.**

**You knew the ghostsex was coming, didn't you? Yeah, you did.:-)**

**R and R, my sistahs and bruddahs.**

**--**

_**Fantasy on a Pool Table: 2**__**nd**__** Person Booth**_

You couldn't understand what some people did for vacation. Vacation was supposed to involve pleasant weather. Sand and surf of some sort. Fine dining. It was NOT supposed to involve blistering heat waves, cattle driving, and the kitschiest little whorehouse in Montana. Well, it wasn't a whorehouse anymore. And, although you had _thought _it was kitsch, turns out that the décor hadn't changed much from the original style a couple hundred years ago. Apparently, this is just how things looked in the Old West.

"Y'all shouldn't be bothered much, this time o' year," the mustached, hankerchiefed man from behind the desk. "S'not tourist season now. Too hot. But some o' the attractions stay open year 'round, if yer interested in that sorta thing."

"Like what?" your partner said interestedly, but you quickly curtailed that line of questioning.

"No, thanks. We're here for work. Not for rodeos." You gave a perfunctory smile as you signed the guestbook.

"We can't work the whole 3 days we are here," Bones whispered to you. You had a brief thought of her in a checkered shirt, one hand flying in the air while a black bull tried to buck her off its back. You didn't know whether to laugh or groan at the image.

"I'm sure we'll find something to occupy ourselves," you suggested. Something that didn't involve cows, preferably. "The case will take up most of our time."

"Well, a dead body causes considerably more noise nowadays than it did when this place was set up," the owner said agreeably. "Someone gettin' shot was a nightly occurrence over the poker table. They'd just bury'em out back." The guy sounded a little too proud for his own good.

"Good for them. Where are our rooms?"

"Go down to the other end, up the stairs and 'round the corner…two rooms on the left. I'll be in the building across the way if you need anything tonight."

"Thanks." Placing your hand on your partner's back, you guided her away.

"Booth…maybe I wanted to hear some more about the history of this place," she chastised you.

"Bones, there's no real way of knowing the history of this place. Accurate records weren't kept. These guys like to tell stories to turn these crapholes into tourist attractions."

"This place is authentic," she insisted. "Besides…you're a man. Aren't you supposed to be interested in gangsters and cattle rustlers and gold rushes?"

"Aren't you supposed to prefer facts to stereoty…heeey? What's _that?" _It was the first interesting thing you had seen since you got to this place.

"It's obviously a billiards table, Booth."

"_Obviously," _you said irritably. "But Bones…they don't make 'em like this anymore. Wow. And I've seen a lot of them. Pool is my favorite game."

"Sir?" she called.

"Don't call him over here…" The guy sort of freaked you out with the exaggerated drawl and the smarmy mustache. But it was too late. He was heading over towards you.

"Yes'm?"

"What can you tell us about this billiards table?"

"That, ma'am, is the centerpiece of this place. Genuine Brunswick & Balke antique, has been here as long as this place's been. Laurel, ash, walnut, mahogany…gorgeous, ain't it?"

It was. You would give your left arm to play on a table like that. "Why is it all roped off?" you said wistfully, noting the velvet looped between the poles that sat to every corner of the thing.

"'Cuz that's no ordinary antique, sir. That there was the table that Cass Flint hustled on."

"Cass 'Casanova' Flint?!" Bones sounded like _she _had just discovered gold. "Are you serious?"

It was obvious that this wasn't a table that got any play anymore, and also that the owner and Bones were about to launch into a detailed conversation about Old West history, so you made your move. "That's really interesting. Thanks for sharing." Taking Bones' arm again, you led her toward the staircase.

"Boooooth," she whined. "I wanted to hear more about Casanova's billiards table."

"That's not what we are here for."

She pouted. Some would deny that Bones pouted. You knew better.

"Fine," you sighed, unlocking the door to your room. "Tell me about this Old West tool."

Quickly dropping her bags on the bed in her own room, she came into yours, leaving the door to the hall open. She settled on the chair in the corner, lasso decorating the wall behind her head. "He was a bank robber. The kind of guy you would have gone after. But most of his notoriety came from being a pool hustler."

"Huh. A shark."

"No. Human," she said, evenly.

You paused in your unpacking to defend yourself, and then decided it wasn't worth it.

"He was the best billiards player in the West. Practically unbeatable. But he didn't play for money."

"I suppose the bank robbing thing was pretty lucrative, huh?" Damn criminals.

"I suppose."

"So he just played for fun?"

"No. He played for sex."

You dropped the shoe you had just pulled out of the bag. Right onto your toe. "Ow," you swore. Why did she do that? All the time? The word "sex" coming out of her mouth always sounded like the filthiest, hottest syllable in the human language, and she always managed to say it as nonchalantly as if she were speaking of the weather. "He'd make the challenger…you know?"

"Not quite. He'd challenge them to three games. The terms were, if he lost even one of them, the challenger could leave, reputation intact. But if Cass won all of them…he got a night. With their women."

"What did the men get if they won?"

"If they would have won, they would have the knowledge that they were the best. But they never did."

"Wow, Bones," you managed. "That…hardly seems fair. The man lost, and the women had to pay?" There. She'd be pleased with that.

"Horrifying," she murmured. "But the really amazing part of the legend…is that apparently, the women didn't mind. They actually encouraged their boyfriends and husbands to play Cass, knowing they'd probably lose. Because Cass _also _had the reputation of being the best lover in the Old West."

You decided that Bones shouldn't be allowed to say "sex" _or _"lover."

"Hence the epithet, Casanova," she finished evenly.

"How do you know all this stuff?"

"I did some research before we came here." Her face looked a little flushed, and her eyes glassy as she told the story. You came to a sudden realization.

"Bones. That turns you on!" you accused her.

"That's not true," she insisted. "It's just…to get that kind of reputation…you'd have to be pretty good. Don't you think?"

Slamming the lid of your suitcase down, you endeavored to knock this particular thought straight from her biologically-urged mind. "Nobody's that good. That's just another rumor, another legend meant to titillate people into coming to places like this. It probably never happened."

"Oh, it happened," another voice interrupted. The two of you looked to the open door, where Mr. Smarmy-Mustache himself was standing. "Some extra linens for ya. Although if yer sharing a room, I guess you won't need them…"

"We aren't sharing!" you said quickly, annoyed at the interruption. The man dropped the pile of towels into your arms.

"Not only is the legend of Casanova Flint true, it's also true that…" he hesitated. "Well, never mind. I don't wanna scare the lady."

You didn't need Bones attacking this guy. "The lady isn't easily scared," you said tersely.

It was likely the opening that Smarmy was looking for. "We git a lot of tourists in through here. And not just a few have said that ol' Cass still hangs around this place."

Bones was nonplussed. "Sir, that's impossible. Cass Flint would be 142 years old by now. No human has lived that long."

"Not hangs around _alive…" _the owner said ominously. "They say that he had a…let's say, libido…that transcended death. Some of the ladies, 'specially. They get a little…tingle."

You could tell that he looked up the words 'libido' _and' _transcend' just to tell this story. "Alright, buddy. Thanks for the towels. And thanks for letting us stay in your haunted inn. We'll be seein' ya." You had been guiding him towards the door; once he was safely out in the hall, the door got shut in his face. "Weirdo," you muttered.

Bones was laughing. "Did he scare you?"

"Yeah, Bones. I'm really scared of the horny ghost that runs around this place."

"Sounds like I should be more scared," she said, a dangerous half-smile on her face.

Was it strange that it kind of pissed you off to think of a dead hustler's ghost feeling up your partner?

You pushed away the thought. "I'm a pretty good pool player. I could probably have beaten him," you mumbled, setting the suitcase on the floor.

"Mmm-hmm," she said, a mischievous half-smile on her face. "I'm sure you could have put that guy to bed."

Bones wasn't allowed to say 'bed,' either.

--

This place was impossible to sleep in. It was…too quiet. You could practically hear the tumbleweed rolling around outside. And just knowing you'd have to be traipsing around in the 100 degree heat tomorrow picking up body parts put you in a bad mood. You were fussy.

_Creak._

What the hell was that? A rogue ghostie?

_Pad pad pad. _

Na. Ghosts didn't have little feet that made little noises pattering down the hall. Bones couldn't sleep either, you guessed.

Sighing, you flipped over to your back. It amazed you that for as practical and reasonable as the woman was, she was willing to entertain all sorts of craziness just for the anthropological kick of it.

You expected to hear her padding back to the room, but when the sound didn't come after a few minutes, your body tensed up. Was she okay? These adjoining-room-destination-cases were always tough on you. You worried about her when you weren't even together, but somehow, hearing every move she made heightened that anxiety. Made you wonder what it was that was keeping her awake at night…and how helpless you were to comfort her.

A few more minutes passed, until you finally couldn't take it anymore. Standing up, you winced as your bare feet touched the cool hardwood floor, and the air hit your chest. Yes. The desert tended to be cold at night. You opened the door cautiously and peered outside. No Bones.

Then, a faint sound…almost like a sigh? Drifting up the staircase. Was she crying? There were no other guests here tonight. Did she go downstairs so you wouldn't hear her? Oh, forget it, Bones. She wasn't getting away with that. You practically had radar for her tears. You had been thinking about grabbing socks and a robe, but you forgot about it now and strode purposefully into the hall and down the stairs, tiptoeing quietly so she wouldn't be alarmed…or try to hide her tears from you. As you maneuvered down the stairs, the sound of her whimpering grew louder. Oh god. This was breaking your heart.

Rounding the corner, you glanced about in the dim light, trying to catch sight of her. Then you did. And you blinked. And blinked again. Obviously, you were dreaming. Because there was no chance in the universe that you were seeing what you were seeing.

One of the metal poles that roped off that magnificent billiards table was pushed aside, giving easy access to the felt surface. Which she was laying on. LAYING ON. With her eyes closed, and her head thrown back, and her hands above her head, wrists entwined as if someone were holding them there gently while her back arched. But she was all alone. All alone in her tiny shorts and tank top, crying out in a way you had only heard in your dreams.

And as you watched, your mouth hanging open, still trying to decide if you were awake, you saw the cotton of her top being worked higher, higher still up her stomach. Like it was being pushed…but _nobody was doing the pushing. _Her creamy skin glowed in the barely-there light, and she gasped as the material caught just under her breasts…and then it hit you. And you bellowed.

"Get your goddamn hands _off of her!" _

At the sound of your voice, Bones squeaked slightly, her hands were released, and her top immediately fell back into place where it belonged. She struggled up to a sitting position atop the table as you stalked towards her. "Oh my God…Booth…"

"What did you think you were _doing?" _You didn't know if you were angry, or frightened, or both. Her cheeks were flushed, from embarrassment or arousal or both, and you cupped them, looking sternly into her glassy eyes.

"I…I…I don't know," she gasped, hands running over the little clothes she had on to make sure they were in place. _Now _she was being modest. "I just…got this urge to come down here and when I did…something was touching me, and I should have been scared, but I _wasn't, _it felt good. And I heard…" She trailed off, and her face blushed deeper.

"What?" you demanded. You were holding her shoulders now, and despite the chill in the room they felt incredibly warm.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," she muttered breathlessly.

"Tell me!" No crazier than you were when you saw those invisible hands feeling up Bones on an antique pool table.

"I heard…a voice in my head…saying that he would have won. That he was the better man. And it was just…confident, and sure of itself…it made me feel…" Her voice was weak, yet sultry, and you had no doubt what word was going to come next.

_It made her hot._

Ooooh, no. Nonono. No dead sonofabitch ghost was going to upstage you on this pool table. You didn't care how many banks he had robbed, or how many pool halls he had hustled. You were one cop whose girl this guy was going to regret trying to seduce.

Acting purely on jealousy and irritation and maybe just a little bit of arousal from watching your partner writhing on that green felt table like a porn star, you knotted your fingers through her hair and yanked those pink, ready-to-be-kissed-by-an-actual-man lips to yours. A soft and surprised "uh" was exhaled into your mouth, and for a second you prepared to accept the possibility that you might get shoved for your efforts at ridding her of the ghostly molester…then you felt her fingernails scratching lightly down your bare back while her face tilted slightly to get better access to yours. Either the ghost was _extremely _effective in getting her warmed up for this, or she actually wanted to kiss you. Or maybe a little of both.

_You watching this, you bastard? _You mentally asked the specter, as you swept all rogue balls aside with your hand and lowered her down to the table. Some of them rattled their way into the pockets on the far end. Score. _This isn't one of your Old West wenches, and I'm not one of the guys who fell for your tricks. You want to see what the best looks like? You just keep on watching._

Knees straddling her hips, you climbed onto the table, sucking your way down her throat, her collarbone, the skin overtop her rapidly fluttering heart. When your mouth closed in on the sweet, delicate skin between her breasts, you got exactly the reaction you hoped…your name, whispered between her gritted teeth.

_Yeah. Booth. Does that sound like Cass? No. Doesn't even share a _letter. _Asshole._

Your thoughts were childish, but your body's reactions to her were nothing but. "Why'd you let that ghost touch you, Bones?" you asked, grinding your erection against her belly.

"There are no such thing as ghosts," she gasped, hands flying back and fingers attaching to the pockets behind her head, effectively splaying her out for you. "It must have been exhaustion…some type of waking dream…" She wrapped her legs around your ass, pulling your hips closer. You grunted.

"Are you dreaming now?" Your mouth attached to her nipple through the fabric of her shirt. You had briefly considered pulling it off and tossing it across the room, but had decided that if there _were _some disembodied phantasm in the room, you didn't want it to get an eyeful (socketful?) of what felt like the most perfect breasts known to man (ghost?).

"If I am, nobody damn well better interrupt me this time," she moaned, arching her back. As annoyed you were made by her implication, you sympathized with the sentiment.

"You're sexy," you murmured as you worked your way down her stomach, pressing your cheek against the moist heat of her through her tiny shorts. Turning your head, you pushed a kiss there, her arousal sweetly pungent. You wanted to give her everything a lover could give right now…and not just because she was your prize for the night, but because you adored her. Every curious, unique, literal, brilliant bone in her body.

But by the way she was squirming and the sounds she was making, she didn't want to be adored right now. She wanted to be fucked into another dimension. And you weren't going to be the one to deny her. Your fingers worked under the elastic of her shorts while hers did the same to your pajama pants. _Not bad, huh Casanova? Still feeling like such a big guy? _you thought cockily. _Yeah. Not so tough when you aren't…alive._

"Booth," she whispered, pressing her pelvis up to meet yours, catching your hard cock against her sex and rubbing sensuously up and down it. "Please…I need…"

"I know what you need." You had never been so confident around her in your entire partnership, but you seemed to be channeling some other force right now…one that knew he could get away with any and all immoral acts and no one would criticize him. In fact, he might just get a lovely reward…

"Aahhh," she mewled, as you plunged inside her, more quickly than you intended but obviously at just the speed to make her moan in just the way you hoped.

"Just like that?" you choked out, burying your face into her neck.

"Just like that," she confirmed breathily, raising her hips to meet you and enveloping you in everything that was tight and wet and _her. _And for a stretch of time, you completely forgot about Cass Flint and his otherworldly seductions, as the billiard balls rattled in their pockets and her sweet little sighs echoed in the room. You watched her move underneath you, so intently that you were nearly surprised when her motions escalated, became erratic.

"You're gonna…"

"Yes…" Her head tossed back, her hands now gripping your ass rather than the sides of the table. She was going to make you go crazy…

"Say it…" you groaned, not knowing how she was going to catch your meaning, hoping if she did she knew it was for you, and not for _him. _And, as always, she got it.

"You're…the…" Her body stiffened, and she whispered and seized in all around you, forcing you with her. "BEST. You're the best, Seeley Booth," she moaned. If you hadn't been coming already, you would have at her words.

_Yes. Don't you forget it, Bones. No one else. Dead or alive._

Laying on top of her on the pool table, gasping, you eventually became aware of the cool air on your bare body, chilling you where the sweat was drying. It was a little awkward, climbing off of her again, back onto the floor. You helped her sit up.

"It's pretty sturdy," she said. Your eyes widened. "The table."

"I knew what you meant," you said, a little defensively, suddenly feeling not so cocky being the only completely naked one in the room. "Yeah. They don't make them like that anymore."

"They certainly don't." She had that strange half-grin on for a second, and you couldn't help but smile back, endeared.

Plucking your pants from the edge of the table, she threw them at you, playfully. "Get dressed. Who knows who could be watching."

You leaned in to kiss her lightly. "You're one to talk, ghost-rider."

"There are no such thing as ghosts," she said, hopping to the floor herself, pulling on her shorts.

You weren't going to go into the strange things you had witnessed before your little pool-table interlude. Maybe she was right. Maybe you were both just tired. Maybe you had just been seeing things.

"And even if there were…would still prefer flesh and bone," she whispered. Wrapping your arm around her waist, you pulled her to you as she shivered. When she pulled away, she looked at you expectantly. "Come to bed? We've got a dead body to wrangle up tomorrow, cowboy."

Suddenly, it wasn't so bad to hear Bones say the word 'bed.' You even thought maybe you could stop boycotting all those other words she wasn't allowed to say. "Cute." You kissed her forehead. "I'll be up in a minute. Should probably…you know…fix the table."

She was halfway up the stair before you called after her. "Hey Bones? Did you mean it?"

She glanced back, enigmatic smile in place. "Maybe. Couldn't have you developing an inferiority complex to an invisible guy, could I?"

You glared at her.

"I need to run some more tests, just to make sure. So hurry back." She winked, and continued up the stairs. That was your Bones. Could never quite give you full satisfaction.

Turning back to the pool table, you froze. The balls were there on the table again. Perfectly racked. The velvet ropes opened to you invitingly. The cues perched against the table. _Come play, _the scene said, invitingly.

"Sorry, Cass," you murmured. "But I already won."

Turning, you took the stairs three-by-three to get back to your room. Billiards was no longer your favorite game.

--

**A/N: You know who I hear are awesome? Those chicks at 5SteamboatsShippingCo. And also the chicks at NekkidBoothInc. I hear they are tres talented and hot.**

**Just sayin':-)**


	24. Drama on the Stairs

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A/N: An update for yooooouuu! This would have been done on Thursday, but my fiance usurped the computer for THREE HOURS picking out his wedding ring online. And it didn't feel like something I could shoo him off for. Then we had family stuff ALL WEEKEND. Life is hard. Sigh. :)

**Hope you are still enjoying these...let me know! Loves.**

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_Drama on the Stairs--3rd Person_

There was something on his mind. She could tell by the way he wasn't quite focusing on the paperwork they had to do, how she had to repeat a few questions a few times before he responded. She could tell by his restless movements and his inability to concentrate on the task at hand. By the time they finished with the dinner he insisted they order in, and he emerged from the basement after throwing in the load of laundry that he insisted _had _to be done tonight, she was more than a little irritated at his lack at efficiency.

Despite her irritation, she was somewhat pleased with her ability to read him at this point. They had been partners for several years (her longest relationship with a man; that ironic fact did not escape her), and she felt pleasantly connected with him…their time together was comfortable, enjoyable, and both professionally and personally stimulating. She didn't overanalyze her growing closeness with him…actively avoided overanalyzing, actually…but it meant something to her, to feel she knew someone well. Like now, when she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that something was itching under the surface of the brain of one Seeley Booth.

"What's up with you?" she confronted him, her feet propped on the coffee table that was currently cluttered with empty boxes of their delivered food.

It seemed to take a second for the question to register, but when it did, he frowned. "What makes you think there is something up?" Testing her.

"Because you haven't been able to sit still all night. And we've spent two hours trying to fill out this _one _form that usually takes 15 minutes." She could have generated more evidence, but he was already squirming uncomfortably. Point proved.

He paused. "I've just been thinking…" At that moment, a faint "buzz" emanated in the room, and a look of relief covered his face. "Laundry's done," he announced, standing and hurrying towards the stairway as if not taking clothes out of the dryer _immediately _would result in the whole load bursting into flames.

Sighing, she stood and stretched, resolving to follow him. This was the kind of relationship they had…she could push him a little, confront him, and know that their friendship would remain intact, in the end. Even when it pissed him off. "Is something going on at work?" she tried, trailing him down the narrow stairs to his furnished basement. Furnished with the biggest flat-screen t.v. she had ever seen, and a large foosball table. He had a party here a few months ago, and Angela had begun referring to this as his "man-cave," which seemed to amuse her to no end.

"Not really…" he said tentatively, moving through the entertainment area to the smaller laundry area. She leaned against the washing machine, and he had to squeeze past her to get to his intended destination. He seemed to linger there for a second, meeting her eyes as he brushed against her body, and she gave him a small, encouraging smile. Finally moving past her, she felt the hot, damp air from the dryer hit her calves as he opened the door. He didn't look at her as he began pulling out the shirts and boxers one by one, folding them and placing them into the laundry basket. "I…was talking to Rebecca the other day."

"Oh. Issues with Parker?"

"Sort of."

She was beginning to feel just a little impatient with his hesitance, but she did her best to stay quiet. She was learning.

Eventually, he spoke again. "Parker came back from school upset because kids were teasing him. About his parents not being together."

"Really?" she asked incredulously. "I would think that divorce and separation would be common enough now that it wouldn't be taboo enough to tease a child about."

He spoke tersely, still folding the material in front of him, not looking at her. "Yeah, well, you'd think so Bones, but some kids are mean enough to tease about anything. And then _my _kid comes home crying, with all these questions about why his mom and dad don't love each other."

"Ouch," she replied, with empathy. She did not envy Booth's parenting responsibilities.

"Anyway…Rebecca has been reading these parenting magazines. And they all say that as long as parents can be civil to one another, having an intact family is better for the emotional well-being of a child."

Brennan blinked. "If I didn't know you as well as I do, Booth, I'd be thinking that you were considering getting back together with your ex because a magazine told you to."

He was scowling. "It was just a discussion, Bones. We haven't decided on anything yet."

For awhile, there was no noise in the room except the _whisk _of material across metal as he pulled out his clothes, and the soft _thump _when he threw the folded product into the basket. She contemplated.

Finally, he sighed. "You might as well tell me what you are thinking. I know you have an opinion about this."

"Are you in love with Rebecca?"

"This isn't about me and Rebecca. This is about Parker."

"Do you want to be in a relationship with Rebecca?"

"That's not the point."

"This is the stupidest thing you've ever considered doing."

His eyes widened in surprise at her vehemence.

To be fair, she was a little surprised herself, at the intensity of her anger towards his suggestion. But this was Booth. The man who was constantly discrediting relationships in which there were no true emotions involved. The man who had given her a grand speech about the wonders of making love, and how everything else was just crappy sex. And she had almost started to _buy _this philosophy, when it sounded so sincere, and so beautiful leaving his lips. And now…he was speaking of flying in the face of it. _That _pissed her off.

"Did you just call me _stupid?" _he asked her incredulously.

"No, I said what you might do is stupid. Give me a break, Booth. Mr. True Love himself is going to stay together with his ex for the kid?"

He tore his eyes away in a huff. "Maybe you'd understand if you had kids. There are some things more important than what you want." Throwing the last folded shirt down, harder than the rest, as if punctuating this conversation. It's over. Period.

Pushing off the washer with both hands, she maneuvered in front of him, blocking his path to the door. "More important things like putting on a farce and hoping your child won't notice?"

It was impossible to miss his gritting teeth, the tensing of his body when he was just beginning to get truly infuriated at her. She should really stop pushing now. But something about this whole situation was unbelievable to her, started a fire in the pit of her stomach. She had thought she had known Booth…was understanding him better every day…but _this _wasn't him.

"Give it up, Bones," he told her tersely, stooping to lift the basket, trying to use its bulk to bully her from her spot in front of the entryway. "You aren't going to get it."

She stood her ground for a moment, defiantly looking him in the eye. "I get that you are making a misguided attempt at a safe choice."

He sidestepped her, his body and the plastic of the basket brushing against her arm on his way past. "I knew I shouldn't have mentioned it to you."

"Why? Because you knew I'd be honest with you about how stupid it is?" She was on his heels, anger in her voice. "You don't think I would have found out, say, when I got the wedding invitation?"

"You didn't have to know why." He was stomping up the stairs, mad at _her _for expecting more from him than what amounted to an arranged marriage. He was the one who was supposed to take chances…who _taught _her how to take chances, make leaps of faith. And now he wanted to take a lover for sensibility's sake. Right when…

_Right when she had started to think that maybe, there was a chance for them._

The revelation, rather than pacifying her, stoked her ire even more. She felt tricked. Without even thinking, she reached out, grabbed his bicep to twist him around on the stairs to look at her, make him see her disappointment. This had the effect of pulling his arm away from securing the basket at his side. It tumbled, hitting the edge of the stair beside him with a muted _thud. _They watched, dumbly, as it seemed to balance on its side for a few, precarious seconds, before the contents shifted the center of gravity and it went falling end-over-end to the bottom of the staircase. The carefully folded shirts and underwear it contained unraveled, depositing themselves at various positions down the stairs, dumping the majority at the final resting place of the basket. Her eyes took it in, then raised slowly to meet his.

Uh oh.

"You just can't leave well enough alone, can you Bones?" he asked in a strangled voiced she had never heard from him.

There was a second when she felt regret for pushing him this far, for getting so mad at something that really _was _none of her business. Because now he was looking at her with danger in his eyes, livid at her intrusion, her questioning. But something now encouraged her to ignore those warning signals. To tempt fate. "If that's what it takes to remind you that you aren't a man who gives up what could be, in favor of what he knows."

A hand was suddenly gripping her upper arm, and she started, surprised by the forcefulness of his touch, which was usually so gentle with her. He pulled her up a step, to the one directly below him, his hot breath against her face. "Does this feel safe to you?" he hissed, eyes boring into hers.

She could barely breathe. "Not one bit," she said shakily. Honestly.

"Good. Don't forget that," he swore, before his lips descended on hers, kissing her hotly.

She gasped, whatever was left of the air in her lungs being taken away by him. Her hand shot out, grasped the railing to keep from falling into him, but she fell anyway as he pulled her with his fingers laced through her hair. All in a rush, it was clear why she had been so angry at his proposition. This was where things were heading, slowly, methodically. But the thought of him going through the motions with someone else sent her careful saunter towards this moment into overdrive. He wouldn't kiss anybody else like this. Couldn't. She wouldn't allow it.

His ankles caught on the stair behind him, her body weight pitching forward all at once and forcing him backward onto his ass while she leaned, half standing against him, neither of them allowing a break in their kiss until his shirt being pulled over his head forced it. "You see?" she asked him, wanting to hear him say she was right.

"Shut up," he gasped, pulling her flush against his bare chest while simultaneously flinging his shirt to join the rest of the pile at the bottom of the stairs. He flipped her, and she landed hard on her bottom against the carpeted step. His hands, suddenly, were everywhere, on her ass, under her shirt, thrust into her pants. His lack of gentleness excited her right now, showed her the passion and the need that she knew he couldn't generate for anyone else, and she encouraged it, squirming against him even as the steps behind her dug uncomfortably into her back. She was fairly certain there was nothing in the parenting magazines about this. "You just won't let me do the right thing," he groaned while he stroked her, squeezed her, made her start to cry out.

That's where he was confused, she decided in her lust-fogged mind. Where they had both been confused at one time…thinking that this was the wrong thing. Now she knew better, and as he sucked his way down her stomach and she pushed his pants over his hips with her toes, she vowed to show him that the thing that was _exactly _right for him was between her thighs. She knew it. She knew _him. _So she pushed him.

His pace was frantic, and she didn't quell it, happily submitting when he hauled down her pants and underwear at the same time. And when his tongue grazed her clit, her hands shot out, one palm against the wall and the other gripping the bars of the railing while she arched and gasped, her hips instinctively bumping upwards to meet his mouth. They pushed towards him, again and again, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was going to have brush-burns from where her ass was rubbing against the carpeted stair, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Then he did something amazing. He stopped for a moment, and her hands were halfway to his hair to force him back to her, not allow him to give up on this. But he surprised her…he reached to a stair below him, grabbing one of the t-shirts that had fallen from the abandoned basket. Then, with one hand cupping her bottom, he lifted her deftly, while pushing the shirt underneath her. Protecting her skin from the rough carpet. His mouth then returned to her, voraciously.

The gesture of thoughtfulness gave her pause to all the thoughts swirling in her head…somehow, what they were doing made sense when it was a sudden, uncontrollable act of passion. But now he was _taking care of her…_he was always trying to take care of people…and she was thrown by it. She didn't want to be another person he felt obligated to. She struggled to pull herself together again, pressing at him with her hands. "Booth…"

And then he had risen up her body, covered her lips with his fingertips. "Don't you dare," he said, a little roughly, and it silenced her. "I don't know if this is right. But this is _real."_

She couldn't argue with it. It's what she had been feeling all along. So she gave into it, melting again into his kiss while he braced himself above her, gripping the stair upon which her head rested as he took her mouth with his. The friction of his first thrust inside her made them both groan, made her fingernails curl into the carpet and the skin of his muscled back. Yes. There was nothing else on his mind anymore, she was sure of it. There was her, and this, and whatever was happening in the narrow staircase of his home, surrounded by his clothes and the wall and the railing and their fevered cries. She met his pace, each and every time, showing him she was with him. Showing him that she could meet him where he was.

There was a moment that hovered, her whimpers and his groans and the creak of the stairs echoing, before everything they had been holding back let go, him first, and her a split second afterwards, throbbing in time to their fluttering pulses. His head stayed buried in the soft skin of her neck, and she felt his labored breathing move through all the stages from marathon to the final, even, shuddering sigh.

"I told you," she whispered.

He raised his head, finally, looking just a little accusing. "You were ready to run away."

She thought about the honest excuse for that, before the words left her lips. "I needed to make sure you'd come after me."

It seemed to surprise him. Then, he surprised her. "Me, too. I think."

A laugh threatened to escape her. "Gotcha," she said, quietly, teasingly.

"That, you did." He pushed himself up, and off of her, both of them laughing a little at the ridiculousness of the mess of clothes below them. Their revelation had been untidy. Chaotic. Reaching a hand out, he helped her stand, and steadied her weak legs on the stairs.

She pulled the t-shirt that had been underneath her over her head, and without speaking, started down the stairs, beginning to clean up after them. He quietly followed her lead. Tossing the last shirt into the now-uprighted basket, she spoke. "I didn't mean…I know you want to do what's good for Parker."

He nodded. "Yes." Scooping up the basket, he started the trip up the stairs that had been previously unsuccessful.

She tread behind him slowly. "Do you think…" She stopped, suddenly unsure.

He turned so suddenly on the stairs she almost fell over on them. Again. Putting her hand on the railing, she steadied herself.

"I think that what's good for Parker is for his father to be happy," he said, his voice low.

She looked at him, unsurely, uncertain about what to say.

"Why don't we see if we can make it upstairs, so we can talk about how to accomplish that. Shall we?"

A smile touched the corners of her mouth as he turned from her again and she followed, mind clear, point proven, and finally, one hundred percent certain that indeed, she knew him. More than anybody else.


	25. Comfort in the Shower

**A/N1: I hadn't intended on writing any more until after the wedding. But on Monday, as I began **_**freaking out **_**to the point of physical illness, I remembered how calming it was to write. So I did. And I feel better. Mission accomplished.:)**

**A/N2: This isn't what you expect. Forgive my taking of liberties with what I drew from the hat. **

**A/N3: I love you all. Cross your fingers for me, for a beautiful wedding day. See you after the honeymoon.**

**--**

_Comfort in the Shower: 1st Person Brennan_

Sweets had been absolutely no help to me; a fact that shouldn't have surprised me, since I typically needed Booth to translate all that therapy-talk anyway. Since Booth was, for the first time, absent from our session, Lance Sweets's advice seemed even harder to decipher. Even when I asked him direct, straight-forward questions like "Should I visit my grieving partner, or just send him a card like everybody else?" It wasn't because of any of his answers that I ended up on Booth's doorstep. It was because I couldn't find a single card that conveyed any of the sentiments that I wanted to communicate.

Not that I knew exactly what those sentiments were.

One can only spend so much time in the American Greetings store before it became obvious that changing tactics was the logical choice. So I switched to plan B. Judging by the wary look on Booth's face as he looked at me through the cracked-open door, I had chosen the wrong plan. Damn Sweets. Why couldn't he have just outright _told _me that this was a bad idea?

"What can I do for you, Bones?" Booth asked, as if this wasn't the first time we had seen each other or spoke all week. It made me squirm. I shouldn't have been there, and right then all I wanted to do was leave.

"I just wanted to…check…you extended your leave, and I wondered…Sweets says people can sometimes have complicated grief reactions, and I wasn't sure…" _Way to go, Temperance. And you're a best-selling author? You'd think you'd be able to string a sentence together. _"I just wanted to see if you're okay," I finished weakly. The irony didn't escape me that if he _weren't _okay, I'd have no idea what to do.

He peered at me, his face scruffy and his eyes unreadable. "What's considered a complicated grief reaction?"

I was surprised by the question. "Um. Well, I'm not sure…I think one in which the death is not accepted…"

"I accept my father's death. Just not everything that comes with it. Is that complicated?"

I was thoroughly confused and even more convinced I had made the wrong move. "Maybe you should talk to Sweets, Booth…I can make an appointment for you if you want…"

"No," he said abruptly, and he finally opened the door the whole way. "Come in."

His place smelled stale, like it hadn't been aired out in a long time, and I wondered if he had even left the house since the funeral. The only light in the room emanated from the flickering television in the corner. Was I supposed to say something? I suddenly wished I would have bought every sympathy card in the store, so I could recite them. Surely _that _would be better than having my mind feel so very blank.

He surprised me by speaking first. "You and I…we believe different things about death. I had always thought your way of thinking was so fucking depressing." He sank down into his armchair, brushing an empty pretzel bag on it to the floor.

Was I supposed to take suit? Gingerly, I eased down too, on the very edge of his leather couch.

"I had thought about calling you," he said. "But it took me awhile to realize that I wanted to see things your way."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," I said slowly, which was a lie. I had _no idea _what he meant.

"It's supposed to be comforting, knowing that God took someone you loved so that they could be in a better place. But I'm wishing, right now, that I didn't believe that. Because if I thought like you did…then I wouldn't have to be completely _fucking pissed _at God." His eyes were bitter, and gleamed somewhat eerily with the reflections on the TV. They met mine. "So maybe you should tell me, Bones. Tell me about how natural it is to die, how it's simple biology. Tell me that it's not a plan, or fate, or God's choice. Tell me. So I don't have to feel this way anymore."

He was telling me exactly what to say and what to do…something that Sweets had been unable to do. And he was telling me to tell him exactly what I believed to be true. He was making it so easy.

But I couldn't do it. I had argued with Booth a million times about this very topic. But him _asking _me to change his mind…seeing his faith pushed to the limits by his grief…it made my heart ache in a way I didn't entirely understand. Part of my job as an anthropologist was understanding the value in different ways of being. Although I didn't subscribe to Booth's beliefs any more than I did to those of other cultures I study…I saw the beauty in his faith. It was part of what made him who he was. Even though it made him angry right now, I didn't want to take it away from him. But the God I didn't believe in knew that I didn't know what _else _to say. My eyes drifted over his shoulder, at the clock. It was almost midnight. I looked back into his desperate face.

"I want to show you something instead." The words came suddenly, almost before I even knew what my plan was.

His eyebrows rose. "Show me something," he repeated.

"Yes." Mentally, I did some calculations. We didn't have much time. "Quick. Put on your shoes and grab a jacket. And a blanket."

"A blanket?"

"Repeating everything I say is just taking up time, Booth. Come on."

"What does this have to do with anything?" he questioned me. But he was pulling on his shoes, obeying me.

The answer to his question was, "_I'm not quite sure yet." _But it was too late to question myself.

He put the car window down on the passenger side as I drove. The night air whistling in was chilly, but I said nothing. It probably felt and smelled fresh to him, after having been inside for so very long.

"Tell me a memory about your father," I said, to break the silence. I was searching through my cognitive map, trying to pinpoint the best spot for my demonstration, but I didn't want him to get lost inside himself while I was preoccupied.

His voice was a little mechanical. "When I was little, I got in trouble for punching my brother. I had come home from school and found him floating face-down in the swimming pool…I jumped in, clothes and all, to pull him out. Of course, as soon as I did, he started laughing…he did it just to freak me out. I punched him, and Mom sent me to my room and said she'd let Dad deal with me. Was scared to _death _of that man…not because he'd hurt me, but because I respected him so much. His disapproval _killed _me. He went through this whole thing about how there was _never _a good enough excuse to hurt my brother. By the time he was finished, I was _so _ashamed, trying not to cry. But before he left, he put his hand on my shoulder and said 'What you did…before you got angry…you're going to be a hero someday, Seeley. Don't lose sight of that.' I never forgot he said that…" He trailed off.

For a second, I turned my eyes from the road. "I can tell you never forgot," I said, honestly. In my second spontaneous move of the night, I reached over and placed my hand on his knee. Almost immediately, his hand was on top of mine, gripping hard. I drove one-handed as the city lights faded behind us, and the headlights illuminated the fields and mountains ahead.

Turning onto the base of one of those mountains, I glanced at the time display on the stereo. We had to hurry. The pavement eventually turned to gravel, and I had to steer carefully.

"Are you taking me out here to kill me?" he asked.

I assumed it was a joke, but it was sometimes hard to tell. "No," I assured him, finally taking back my hand so I could steer more carefully. There came a point where the gravel road spread out into a clearing; the end of the line, for the car. "We'll have to walk the rest of the way."

We really should have had hiking boots on, and bigger flashlights, but my sudden inspiration hadn't left room for planning. The hill was steep, and we were soon breathing heavily, me quickly leading the way.

"Any time you want to tell me what we're doing, would be good," Booth griped as he followed me.

"We're almost there," I promised. Above us, I could see the large power lines towering over the tips of the trees, indicating that we had nearly reached our destination. I pushed more branches out of our way. "Do you know what day it is, Booth?"

"Tuesday."

"The 21st. There is a celestial event tonight."

He grunted as he took a step up a particularly steep incline, tugging as the blanket he was carrying got caught on a branch. "Like an eclipse?"

"Not quite." I emerged at the head of the path, my legs feeling the relief at being back on a flat surface. The moonlight was visible again, not terribly bright, but enough for me to check my watch. 12:54. "Come." I led him between the two long columns of power grids, the lines sky-high, and disappearing into the valley below us.

He spread the blanket where I indicated, and mimicked me as I laid down. My eyes searched the sky, and brightened when I found the constellation I was looking for. "Keep your eyes there…on the Orionids."

"What am I looking for?"

"You'll know it if you see it." Tracing the stars, they appeared to twinkle, but they stayed unmoving. "The Chumash believed that a meteor shower was people's souls, on their way to the afterlife."

I could see his head turn towards me out of the corner of my eye. "I know you don't believe that," he said.

"I don't," I agreed.

His head turned back towards the stars.

"The Kawaiisu, on the other hand," I continued, "believed them to be an omen of sickness and death." Sucking in a breath of the brisk air, I crossed my arms in front of me. "I don't believe that, either."

Booth's voice was patient. "We both know that meteor showers are the result of the pressure of a meteorite, entering the Earth's atmosphere. There is nothing supernatural about it. Even I know that, Bones."

"Yes. Right there. Three different beliefs about the same phenomenon. Three out of dozens. Hundreds, maybe." How could I put into words, what I was trying to explain to him? Did I even _know _what I was trying to explain to him? "But no matter what a person believes, there is one thing almost everyone would agree on."

"What's that?"

At that moment, I saw the first streak across the sky. I could feel the electricity in the air, making my ears prick, and my hair stand on end. Involuntarily, I shivered. "That it's beautiful."

He said nothing for a few, long seconds, watching the shower in the sky above us, leaving brief trails that were too numerous to wish upon. Did he get it? Did he comprehend how one event could be viewed with such varying emotions… wonder, fear, anger, excitement…and have it not matter which was right or wrong? How he could similarly be relieved by the belief that his father was in a better place, and at the same time furious that he was taken? I knew it, somehow…for sure, I was no stranger to mixed feelings. And even though I often had trouble resolving them inside myself…I knew that his were okay. I had hoped, somehow, he would see it in the stars.

I couldn't tell what he saw. I studied his profile, the streaks of light in his eyes, looking for a hint of understanding. Frustratingly, I couldn't read it, and I felt a surge of despair. I had dragged him out here tonight for nothing. Suddenly, desperately, I wished I had just bought a fucking card. I was no good at this.

My final thought had barely been completed before his head turned again, this time, his gaze locking on my own. I stopped thinking. I stopped breathing.

"It _is _beautiful. And complicated, and strange, and wonderful," he said softly. "But you didn't have to take me way out here, to show me something like that."

There were too many analogies in play right now…mine, and his, and I felt bewildered. But he was looking at me, with a strange intensity to his eyes, the sparkling shower above us seeming to have taken residence there. My head rushed, and there was a jumble of thoughts…_oh my God, he's going to kiss me _(wonder) _what about our partnership? I couldn't bear to lose his friendship (_fear) _why now? Why when everything is so sad…there were a million better times (_anger)…and then his lips brushed mine, and there were no thoughts behind the excitement that rushed through me. I couldn't tell anymore…was my body responding to the electro-magnetic effects of the meteor shower, or to his kiss alone?...and it didn't matter because no matter what my brain might have said, my mouth was moving with his eagerly, hands grasping the back of his head to make him do that more, harder, deeper.

I didn't know if I was giving or taking, but he was moaning softly into my kiss and despite the chilly air, his hand was hot as it skirted under my sweater, fingertips caressing the bare skin above my hip. The shower in the sky was forgotten. Pulling away from me for a moment, he gasped, right near my lips: "I feel so alone, Bones. Even wanting you hurts."

"Then don't want me. Have me," I gasped, before I pulled him to me once more. What was I saying? What was I doing? It was all lost in the stars.

Having been granted permission, his hand felt up my ribcage to my breast, where it squeezed desperately as his body rolled on top of mine, and it only occurred to me then, how much _I _had wanted this…not just his kiss, his touch…but to be the one to comfort him, soothe away his guilt. I couldn't take away his pain and his grief…but I could remind him of the wonderful things about being alive. "You're so warm," he choked out, his exploration under my clothes both frantic and gentle at the same time.

The earth underneath me was a little uncomfortable, the chill, where it hit the skin he bared, a little shocking. We were both a little clumsy, too eager in our desire to take comfort from each other. But for all the imperfections in this moment, I thought later that we perhaps both needed it. There was a reason a card would have never been adequate. There was more I wanted to convey to Booth than sympathy. I tried to show him all of it with my body, my kisses, my whispered words of encouragement…_yes. Everything you feel is okay. Everything you are is okay._

Although I felt ready, I couldn't repress a gasp as he entered me…how long had it been since I had felt this full?...and I squeezed my eyes shut hard as I buried my head into his shoulder. When I opened them, I couldn't tell if the trails of lights I saw were the last of the falling stars (_stars didn't fall…another mistaken belief, but who cared right now?), _or just an illusion created by the firing of my optic nerves. And then there was only pleasure. We called each other's names in the same breath. He thrust into me madly, and I met him, the moonlight reflecting off our bodies like we were creating our own energy. I came, and he followed. Our cries echoed in the valley below us.

We lay, panting, the night air cooling my flesh. I was shocked by what we were on this night…what had come out of his grief. When he separated from me, I felt a grief of my own. He wrapped the blanket we laid on around us, held me tightly.

"I wonder…if that was the right thing, for us. I wonder if it'll be okay," he mused. I didn't blame him for wondering. I had put all my fears aside for the moment as well, and found them there, waiting for me when I returned. But still…

"No matter what…" I began, wanting to tell him we'd be fine, but (_like life) _being unable to promise anything.

"It was still beautiful." He finished the words I hadn't known I was going to say.

I smiled at him. He was right. No matter how many stars fell, there would always be those that remained in the sky. We just had to have faith in that.

--

**A/N4: There is indeed a meteor shower scheduled to fall from the constellation Orion on October 21. We should prob. all check that out.**


	26. Friendship in an Elevator

**A/N:  
Question: Why haven't you posted in awhile, SSJL? I've been weeping every day waiting for your return!**

**Answer: Awhs, am so sorry *wipes tears*. There are a couple reasons. But the most compelling is that I and my super-fabulous co-writer Mia101 have been working on an **_**honest-to-gosh NOVEL. **_**And we are so excited about it. Check out the "Pas de Deux" thread on my homepage link (in my profile) if you'd like to hear more details, or if you'd like to help us in our quest! It would absolutely thrill us to have your support.**

**Question: You aren't trying to slowly back out of the world of fanfiction, are you? *bursts into fresh torrent of tears*.**

**Answer: Gosh, no. My fic-writing has slowed down a little, but I will NEVER abandon these stories. Promise-face. I heart you always.**

**These friendship ones always end up feeling kind of like humor to me (can you imagine B/B having friendly sex? Naaaah). But hey. I do my best. I hope you enjoy!**

**--**

_Friendship in an Elevator: 2nd Person Brennan_

You gave yourself a critical once-over, then twice-over in the full length mirror behind your door. Low-cut top that displayed a tantalizing amount of cleavage: check. Slim pants that made it clear that although you were thin, you had plenty of womanly curves: check. Smoky eyes that made for an enticing come-hither glance: check.

Yes. You were ready. Grabbing a coat and a purse, you switched off the lights in your apartment, pausing and leaving one small one on right by the doorway. If your night went late, you didn't want to trip and fall coming into your dark house. And, if you had a companion, you didn't want him to fall either.

Carefully locking the door behind you, you considered taking the stairs for a minute before deciding that was extremely unwise in these particular heels and opted for the elevator instead, pressing the down button and tapping your toe impatiently while waiting for the door to open. You didn't like staying still.

With a soft 'ding,' the elevator opened and you made to stride inside, before you started a little. "Booth. What are you doing here?"

"Dropping off some good old fashioned paperwork, Bones." He tapped the briefcase he was holding. "Look at you! You got a date?"

"Not exactly. But I'm not doing paperwork tonight." You pushed past him into the otherwise empty vestibule. "Just bring it to the lab on Monday."

"Jeesh. I was just trying to be nice," he said with mock hurt.

You sighed, hitting the button for the ground floor. "By giving me work on the weekend?"

"No. By visiting you." He smiled his trademark charming grin and straightened his tie.

You couldn't help but smile back. "Sorry. If you would have called, I would have told you I wasn't going to be in tonight."

The doors closed. "So where _are _you going?"

"Oh." You leaned back against one of the walls to brace against the small jolt of the elevator beginning to move. "I'm going out to find a sexual partner."

Booth blinked. "Excuse me?"

Sighing, you crossed your arms. "I'm not currently dating anyone, nor do I particularly have the desire to. But I've been having urges that masturbation hasn't completely eliminated, so…" You shrugged.

He was staring at you like you had just told him you were planning to go vandalize the White House. Thinking about it now, you should have known…Booth could be so modest about sex.

"So you are just going to go and…pick someone up. To have sex with."

You nodded. "That's correct. At a bar. Angela tells me that this is a common way to meet sexual partners."

Another second of silence passed by. And then his hand extended and he hit the emergency stop button. Hard. The elevator grinded to a stop.

"Booth! Why the hell did you do that?" you exclaimed, your hand shooting out to grab his shoulder and maintain your balance.

He was shaking his head. "You can't really expect me to let you go out dressed like that to find a guy to use as…a glorified personal massager."

You huffed. "I didn't really expect you to take an interest in the matter. And also, if my personal massager was sufficient, this wouldn't even be an issue." Shuffling uncomfortably, you looked at him with defense in your eyes. This was supposed to be a simple task tonight, and now he was going to complicate it for you.

"Bones. That is so dangerous. You don't know those guys. What if they would try to hurt you?"

"You know better than anyone else that I'm very capable of defending myself if need be. More capable than most men, as a matter of fact." You tried to dodge him to disengage the stop button, but he blocked you easily with a hand to your chest.

"There's more than one kind of danger. What about STDs?"

He was giving you a health class lecture? "I have every intention of practicing safe sex," you told him.

"Condoms can't prevent everything!" he nearly shouted, and you brought a hand to his mouth to quiet him.

"You just don't get it," you told him.

And you were sure it was true. He didn't know about the sleepless nights you had been spending, aching for a man's touch, your own fingers unable to satisfy the burning inside of you. You were surrounded by handsome men every day, not the least of which was the one standing in front of you right now: oozing pheromones, staring at you with charcoal eyes and unconsciously licking his lips, making you wonder just what the tongue would feel like on parts of your own anatomy. The last thing you needed right now in your life was a relationship, and dating only ever got you into trouble…but now you were feeling like a desperate junkie with an itch that only your drug of choice would scratch.

And now, Booth was standing in between you and that drug.

"I can't let you do that." He shook his head.

You stared at him defiantly. "Let me go, Booth."

"I think I know what this is about."

"You don't know _anything."_

He let out a long-suffering sigh. "I know that this is what you need."

Before you could tell him that it was certainly impossible for him to have any real sense of what was in your mind or your heart and _definitely _your pants, his hand reached around you, pressing against the small of your back like it had a hundred times before. But this time, it wasn't for any sort of gentle guidance. This time, he pulled you firmly. Your back arched and you gasped as your heavily glossed lips were swallowed by his mouth, the unexpected sensation of being kissed here and now washing over you like gallons of boiling hot water.

Even though your mind was swimming with the 'why's' and wasn't at all ready for this move, your body was immediately responsive, this being what you had been longing for all along. You kissed him back, hungrily, your hips grinding into his while he reeled you into the corner of the closed-in space. The elevator car was jarred on its cable as you hit the wall hard, your fingers squeezing convulsively at his jeans. You kissed hot and hard for a good several minutes before you finally separated for the sole purpose of pulling your skin-tight top up and over your head.

"Why…?" you managed to gasp out, sagging against the railing while you helped him.

"What kind of friend would I be if I let you have sex with some stranger?" he replied raspily, grunting his appreciation at the realization that your top had a built-in bra that was pulled off with the rest of it. His large palms immediately trailed from your hips upwards, taking more liberties with you than you ever would have thought he might. Somehow, that turned you on even more.

There was no part of you that believed Booth would have sex with you out of pity. And if he _did, _he certainly was a skilled actor at conveying true passion, his fingers massaging your breasts while his lips attached at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. If this was the way he chose to be your friend, you weren't about to argue. No stranger in any bar in D.C. could make you feel like this right now…like the world had decreased in size and scope to this tiny space. It would make sense to tell him to come back up to your apartment.

Sense hadn't counted on your desperation.

"I need to be fucked," you told him, arching your chest out towards him and hating the way your words sounded like begging. Your fingers, with a mind of their own, were fumbling with his belt buckle, anxious to find what was underneath.

"I know," he said soothingly. "I'm here for you, Bones." Then, his mouth captured yours again, his tongue plundering every corner and making your head spin. He was a scintillating kisser, everything you had longed for every sleepless moment of your night, and this was the very nicest thing anyone had done for you, with you.

He grumbled a bit at the tightness of your jeans while he tried to push them down your hips…they clung to you, making you wonder about the logic of using tight pants to attract men when they were so hard to take off once you _did _attract them. "You want this or not?" he breathed against your lips, and you took the message immediately, dragging your hands from his deliciously muscular body and helping him. Your shimmying made the car rattle precariously.

"You don't think we'll fall, do you?" you asked breathlessly, imagining for a brief moment what would happen if the cable snapped and finding that in spite of that terrifying thought, you might be tempted to continue in the face of the risk. Especially when his pants joined yours on the floor of the elevator car. You had an instant Pavlovian response.

"No promises," he swore, and then his hands grasped the backs of your thighs and lifted you. There was a single, slim metal railing around the edge of the car, and he placed you where you could sit on it the best you could. But the foremost reason that you remained in place was because of him, pinning you with his chest and his hips and his arms and his…

Oh, yes.

There were sounds then that you ignored…buzzing that indicated that other residents on other floors were trying to use the elevator, hitting the buttons repeatedly to no avail. They'd have to use the fucking stairs. This was more important…him, pushing your panties to one side, his tongue pressing hotly into your mouth while his erection teased the length of your sex. The sounds of your begging joined the noises of the distressed piece of machinery.

_Please please please please…_

And like the good friend he was, he responded immediately to your pleas, thrusting inside you with a delightful friction that made you gasp in his breath.

Your toes curled inside your patent pumps, your legs curled around his ass, and your eyes fluttered shut in exquisite relief. He knew exactly what you needed. So you tuned out the buzzing and the rattling and the groaning of the cables while he pumped into you, grunting softly into your ear with effort and arousal.

A crackly voice suddenly sounded in the car. "Hello. Hello? Is everyone alright in there?"

The fucking intercom.

"Yes!" you nearly sobbed out. "Yes. Fine."

Booth didn't pause in his thrusts, and one of them hit a particularly sensitive spot inside of you. You let out a breathy moan of pleasure.

"We're working on getting things moving again. Just hang in there, okay?"

"No hurry!" Booth groaned, his head falling to your shoulder.

You very much wished _he _would hurry because you were on the edge of a truly monumental orgasm that was fairly certain to come before the super figured out the elevator's occupants actually manufactured the breakdown.

"Booth," you whispered, gripping him tightly as your sweat-covered limbs made holding on much more difficult. "Please. Don't let them ruin this for me…"

Seeming to understand your plight (perhaps because it was _his _plight, now, as well), he pistoned into you, even faster than before. Your head spun. Your body burned. In a moment, all your pent-up frustration and longing exploded inside you, making the tiny space seem to sparkle before your eyes.

He was right. He had known exactly what you needed. Relief poured out of you in the form of a long, low moan. Booth's hand shot to your mouth to contain it at the same time he looked you fiercely in the eye. You saw his climax there, and although he wasn't quite as vocal, what you saw was no less cataclysmic.

"Ma'am? Everything okay in there? We're gonna get you out soon."

"She's _fine," _Booth insisted, out of breath and a little too loudly. "Just…a little claustrophobic."

Claustrophobic? You nearly laughed. From this moment on, being in small spaces wasn't going to scare you. It was going to turn you on beyond belief.

He was setting you back on solid ground, hissing for you to put back on your clothes lest you be discovered in this unseemly position.

You almost pouted. "Can we take them off again once we get upstairs?"

Pausing in his desperate attempt to untangle his pants from yours, he kissed you soundly. "Of course."

You smiled.

After pouring yourself back into those tight jeans and doing your best to unwrinkled Booth's discarded clothing, you glanced at one another almost awkwardly, knowing that it was unlikely you'd be leaving the scene of this crime without an audience. "You okay?" he asked you, wiping a smudge of lipstick from the corner of your mouth.

"I'm much better now," you told him honestly. You didn't get embarrassed easily, and you weren't planning on starting now. Him, you weren't so sure about. "And I'm sure things will continue to improve once we're back in my apartment."

He eased your mind with a cocky smile and a straightening of his tie, reminiscent of when you first stepped into the elevator. Without hesitation, he hit the emergency stop button again. Immediately, the elevator lurched into motion. This time, you didn't hesitate to grab onto him to steady yourself. This time, he didn't hesitate to help you by grabbing you firmly by the ass and pulling your hips towards his.

Another unassuming 'ding' signified the reentry of the car onto the floor you had originally departed from. You let go of one another as the doors fell open easily, revealing the wide-eyed super and a few disgruntled residents.

"Man, that was close," he said, putting away the tools he had been holding into the box next to him. "I couldn't figure out what was wrong. Are you guys okay? I was worried about the lady freaking out down there."

You gave a brave smile. "It was a little tight. But luckily, I had a good friend down there with me to make sure I didn't overreact."

"Luckily," the super agreed.

"C'mon, Bones," Booth said, scooping up his briefcase with one hand and throwing his other arm around you, leading you out of the small vestibule and into the hallway. "You've already gotten into enough trouble tonight. Let's let these poor people go where they need to go."

"You haven't even seen trouble," you whispered to him with a wicked grin, putting your arm around his waist as well and feeling incredibly grateful that you didn't even need to leave home to get what you needed tonight. But even as you said the words, you couldn't help but wonder…if that's what you could do in an elevator…what could you do with wide open spaces?


	27. Adventure in a Tent

**A/N: Oh, hai, look. SSJL's alive and posting updates! Go fig.**

**So we're at an interesting juncture in Scenes From a Hat. Three more left. Three more locations still waiting to be drawn. **

**But all the genres have been used three times.**

**I could toss them all back into the hat and leave it to chance which genre gets that elusive fourth turn. Ooooor, I could let my loyal readers pick their faves.**

**Let's do that:-D**

**Go to my profile, click on the poll at the top, and vote for your three fave genres for B/B's first time! I shall honor your choices. Nothing can be much worse than the ones the hat throws at me.;)**

**Loves to all, and thanks to lizook for her lookover.**

**--**

_Adventure in a Tent: 1__st__ person Booth_

Sweat beaded on my brow, threatening to drip into my eyes and obscure my vision. There was a tremble to my hand. I was a sniper. My hands did _not _tremble. This was ridiculous.

Granted, while I was doing my sniper work, I wasn't typically staring into the sparkling blue eyes of a beautiful woman like I was doing now.

I gripped the butt of the knife I was holding. Pulled my hand back to throw. Hesitated, then dropped it again.

"Come on, Booth," she urged, a slight smile on her face, her legs open. It was like a perverse parody of a wet dream. She looked and sounded like a sexy siren, begging me to do bad, bad things to her.

Things that did _not include _throwing knives at her too-exposed body.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked, in a tone so seductive that I nearly choked on my own thoughts.

"Dammit, Bones. I'd prefer _not _to stab you," I snapped.

A normal person's eyes might have reflected understanding, but this was _Bones, _and the concept seemed to fall flat with her. "It's okay. I trust you."

Her trust was well and good and, really, one of the things I most desired in this universe, but _trust _didn't prevent a slip of the hand that could kill her.

"Please?"

She blinked, her wide eyes dancing. I wondered if it was the look she gave her lovers to seduce them into fucking her. Not that she'd likely need to do much seducing.

Without thought, my hand pulled back the knife and hurled it in one smooth motion. The _thwack _as it hit the board behind her made us both startle. It sat inconspicuously a few inches to the right of her narrow waist, where I stared at it.

"Oh my God, Booth. You are _good _at that!" she breathed.

A few inches to the left, she would be screaming in pain right now.

"I can't do this. I shouldn't be practicing with _you. _I should be practicing with a dummy or something."

"It would be more ethical to practice on a person with a low I.Q.?" she asked incredulously.

I just shook my head at her.

"We have to do this in front of a live audience tomorrow. It makes sense to practice until we both feel comfortable with this."

"I will _never feel comfortable with this," _I snapped. I knew she was right. It didn't mean she had to _enjoy _it so damn much, though. Who knew that Bones got turned on by dangerous spectacles? I'd have to file that away for…all the masturbatory fantasies that I wasn't supposed to have. It was frustration that drove me to throw the next knife, cutting cleanly through the air to hit directly above her left shoulder.

She squeaked slightly, obviously thrilled to have found an effective method of provoking me. Her legs spread apart just a little bit more, a not-so-subtle invitation as to where to throw the next knife.

_Damn you, _I cursed her internally. I had _never _had such ridiculous cases before I worked with her. I had _never _found myself in these impossible situations. Purposely ignoring her cue, I whipped the next knife, aiming for a spot outside her shapely right thigh.

A near-squeal left her lips, and right before I chastised her for her dramatics I realized the reason for them: the tip of the knife was pinning her black bodysuit to the board beside her.

"Jesus!" I exploded, dropping the next knife and rushing to her. Jerking it out by the handle, my hand flew to her leg, running up and down, testing for the stickiness of blood. "Are you okay?? Did you get cut??"

"I'm fine!" she said, too cheerily. "The knife just caught the material. It was an incredibly close and thrilling shot!"

_Thrilling, my ass. _"That's it, Bones. We can_not _do this. We need to find another act. I can't risk hurting you."

She cocked her head, giving me that "you are being unreasonable" look, and I realized my hands were still cupping her thigh. I sprung back guiltily.

"I think our act is very good, Booth. You didn't hurt me. But…" Her eyes flickered upward. "I _am _quite adept on the highwire."

"What? No!" But she had slipped past me and was hurrying over to the far-too-tall ladder towards the middle of the tent. "I don't want you to get killed today!" I cried out plaintively, and futilely.

"Relax. I've done this before. And…there's a net." She was climbing, her ass swaying tantalizingly with each step.

Squinting up, the bright colors of the big top made me dizzy; I couldn't _imagine _being so close to it. She got smaller and smaller as she ascended the ladder, and I felt vaguely sick to my stomach from adrenaline.

"It's really quite exhilarating," she called down.

"Exhilaration isn't quite what I'm feeling," I called back. The late afternoon sun was filtering through the holes in the tent, the ones that told us that the circus wasn't doing quite as good these days. The light freckled the ground on which I stood, disrupted my sense of equilibrium. If she didn't fall, I might.

She barely hesitated at the landing, stepping onto the wire and her toes curling around it while she adjusted her center of gravity. Foot over foot over foot…Bones on that tiny thread, so far up.

I didn't trust the net to catch her if she fell…if their tent couldn't even keep the rain out, how great could their OTHER equipment be?...and she was so high up that there was no way I could catch her in my arms. "Bones, come down! This isn't safe!"

"It's thrilling." I couldn't make out her exact expression, but I could bet that it was the same one she wore while anticipating the knives that landed inches from her luscious body. Embarrassingly, I seemed to channel her bizarre mixture of terror and arousal. My heart pounded, my body flushed, and I realized that the track pants I wore felt a size or two too small now.

What the hell _was _this? I was a good Catholic boy. I wasn't turned on by danger.

But hell if I wasn't turned on by her.

She was midway across the wire, arms out for balance, and now it would be easier for her to make her way across than to go backwards if she got scared. Which it would appear she was not. Of anything. I looked down. I didn't understand how looking at her…completely throwing caution and logic out the window…was making me feel.

"Booth…"

"I'm not looking until you get down."

"_Booth…"_

The urgency in her voice made me look back up…just in time to see her wobbling precariously. I yelled out her name at the same moment she toppled over in seeming slow-motion. I ran towards the net as if I could do _anything _to stop her from falling.

When she hit the net, it bowed so low I cringed, sure that it would split and dump her onto the hard ground. Then, after a heartbreaking second, she bounced back up, limbs flailing.

"Bones!" Gripping the edge of the netting, tense between the supports, I swung my body up and into the net. The bouncing made it difficult to move, so I rolled my way over to her. "Bones, are you okay?"

She looked stunned, staring up at the wire from which she had fallen.

I cursed. "Dammit, this is _enough. _We're getting out of here. We can solve this case the old fashioned way. No more fucking knives or highwires or you almost _dying…" _

She interrupted my fuming by turning her head towards me, glassy-eyed and sprawled out across the net. "I want to try again." Again, with that look. That crazy, sexy, devil-may-care, completely irrational look.

"You've got to be _kidding me. _No. I won't let you. We are going ho-…"

And I might have finished that rant if she hadn't snaked her hand up the back of my neck and pulled me down hard to her mouth.

Well, fuck. She didn't play fair.

Fact was, I'd do just about anything she requested of me…steal bodies, throw knives, wear ridiculous costumes, throw myself in front of bullets…and submitting to her kiss wasn't something that I'd even consider fighting her on. Her mouth felt hot—almost too hot—and my tongue was practically on fire.

"This is crazy," I gasped in a second away from her lips, before I dove back in, working my way down her throat once I realized that it was just as delicious as what I had tasted so far.

"This is _exciting." _Her hands reached down the back of my pants, fingers squeezing my ass, and even though it was far too fast I was just encouraging her by yanking down the front of her bodysuit and nuzzling her breasts. "Make me feel it again, Booth. Like when you throw those knives…"

I knew immediately what she meant, and it made me as hard as a rock. This was what our first time was destined to be like, I had always known that on some level: hot and fast and ridiculous and unrestrained and a little dangerous. Maybe some day we'd make love, but today it was just us fumbling on a safety net, giving up pretenses and throwing ourselves into what we had been doing all along.

She grabbed my hand and pressed it between her legs, the thin strip of her bodysuit separating my fingers from the place both of us wanted them to be. "Just pull it. What are you waiting for?"

It was the same question she had asked while she was poised against the backboard, seducing me into playing with knives.

I had had enough taunting for one day, and she reached my limit. I tore the material aside, two fingers plunging into her while my other hand yanked at my own pants, which were doing a pretty good tent impression on their own. It wasn't the most efficient way of getting the job done, but she was making guttural sounds that I refused to stop inciting. So wet and tight… "God, Bones. I'm gonna…"

"Fuck me," she whispered.

This time I didn't hesitate. The slack and the bounce of the net made it harder to keep balance, but as soon as I poised over her I found her heat easily and sunk inside her, finally finding my target.

Reflexively my fingers clasped and found a firm grasp on the netting, and it was the perfect hold to gain momentum as I thrust with all my might. I couldn't believe that just a few minutes ago I was worried about the net holding. At this point, I didn't care if we fell…as long as we did it together.

Her cries and my groans filled the empty big top, and I was certain that out of all the performances that had taken place here, _this _was by far the most exciting spectacle. We bounced, and her increasingly vocal supplications made it clear that the final act was nearing completion. I had no hope of lasting much longer, and what I grunted in her ear next was out of desperation.

"I knew I'd impale you…"

I had _known _that she got off on being my target girl, and reminding her of it did the trick. One last bounce and she was near-screaming something that might have been Booth or Boris. The excitement of the day and her tight little body squeezing around me made it impossible to hold out. The force of my orgasm made me wonder if I too might have a hard-on for danger.

Stunned by the intensity of it all, it took a few minute for me to realize that I should probably move off of her. When I released the net, my knuckles ached from the hold I had on it.

She rolled on her side to face me. On the side of her arm and thigh, I could see the beginning of the triangular impressions were she had pressed against the net.

"Booth," she whispered breathlessly

"Yeah?" I asked, pushing back her mussed hair. I could use a compliment just about now.

"How do you feel…about the Wheel of Death?"

I sighed, realizing that now that she had gotten a taste of adventure, she'd never be satisfied with anything else.

Fortunately for her…neither would I.

--

**A/N: I never did one of these as a "missing scene" type thing before, but...there's a first time for everything.:-)**


	28. Comfort in a Restaurant Restoom

**A/N: I wrote another little Scene as a little break from A Family Man, because it seems such a shame to have something SO close to being done and not finish it.**

**I didn't forget your poll…you said you wanted Humor, Hurt/Comfort, and Romance for the next three Scenes, so you got it, although I'm taking some liberties in what order to write them in. This is the first…TWO MORE LEFT. I shall conquer you, story!**

**This one is a tag for The Con-Man in the Meth Lab. I know it's been awhile but you should go back and watch that one anyway b/c it was probs the best epi of last season. Jared's appearance and Booth's background story and angry!Booth (**_**Do you think I'm a loser…? Answer my question!! **_**Guh) and nice character development from Bren in the end…sigh. But this could have happened too, right?:-D  
**

**--**

_Comfort in a Restaurant Restroom: 3rd person_

She followed him when he'd excused himself from the last portion of his party, even though it was inappropriate and even though she knew he was strong enough to deal with this himself; he _had _dealt with it himself for all these years, and he was _fine, _but he wasn't _good_ and in the past few days she hadn't helped. She had to _try _to help.

He didn't seem surprised when she pushed her way into the restroom behind him, locking the door so no one else could interrupt them. He was too tired for surprise, and his voice was flat when he told her she didn't belong here.

"I know you want to protect him," she said of his brother, "but I'm sorry he's hurting you. I'm sorry they all hurt you."

"It does hurt me," he agreed, and she was taken aback that he admitted it so readily until she realized why. "You hurt me, too." His eyes weren't angry anymore; only sad.

She'd known she had; she saw it in his face when he asked if she thought he was a loser, and she hesitated. She hated herself for that hesitation, for considering even for a second that Booth was anything other than strong and courageous and wise. But she was imperfect, was still learning what it meant to _really _trust another human being, and she'd failed him in those few seconds it took her to remember just who he was. "I know. I'm sorry for that, too," she said helplessly. "Most of all." The speech she'd made, as sincere as it was, couldn't quite erase all the damage she'd done.

"I know you are, Bones." The doorknob twisted uselessly as another patron was forced to wait for them…_this _to be resolved. "I heard you out there."

"You know I'm sorry, but you don't know the rest." And the rest was how terribly, _completely _untrue was the thought that she saw him as a failure or a loser. That even though she hadn't trusted enough to not hesitate, it was _still _more trust than she ever had in anyone else. She moved forward, wrapping her good arm around his waist, burying her face into his shoulder. It was _his _turn to hesitate now, but she held on stubbornly, needing him not only to accept the embrace, but also the sentiment behind it.

Finally, he did, at least partially; sighing and encircling her with strong arms. He shouldn't have to feel like this on his birthday. He should _never _have to feel like this, unwanted, unneeded and doubted. "It's okay. You didn't have to follow me into the men's restroom, Bones. We're going to be fine."

He still didn't get it, she could feel it in the slight gingerness of the way he held her. And it killed her.

"No," she said firmly, pulling back, wanting him to see the honesty in her eyes. "Hear me, Booth. You are strong." Nobody was as surprised as she was when she punctuated the statement with a brief, light kiss to his lips. "You are a good man." Another kiss, just as gentle and over just as fast. "And you…are most definitely…_not _a loser." She couldn't stop now, every pause filled with a feathery touch to his mouth and an insistent look each time she pulled back.

He was agog, gaping at her and she was _glad _because at least he was paying attention now, understanding her earnestness because both of them knew that if she was kissing him it meant serious business.

"You get it now?" she whispered forcefully, her eyes willing brightness into his own. Her hand moved from his waist, and drifted to his chest. "I'm not going to forget anymore."

Blinking, he studied her in the unflattering brightness of the fluorescent lights, and exasperatedly she thought she might have to tell him again and again and _again _if that's what he needed just the way she saw him and knew him to be. But then he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers on his own recognizance, and it was as light as her kisses but this one lingered warmly.

She had been trying to prove something to him, something true and heartfelt and not necessarily sexual or romantic. But now, she felt his heart fluttering under her fingertips, and somehow _that _was what got her…this proof of his humanness, of his affection, evidence of what had broken when she hurt him, and of what she was healing with her words and her kiss. The apology seeped out of her, and the desire seeped in.

When he pulled away she followed him, eagerly seeking more pressure, tongue searching for, then finding his.

"I swear to God if this is because you feel sorry for me.." he gasped out, as his ass was backed against the sink, thought lost in a groan as she pressed her hips forward against his own.

She paused for second. "Now we're even, in getting each other wrong. Because I'd _never _do _this _out of pity." And with that, she dropped to her knees.

The tile was hard against her legs, her uncomfortably-bound arm making what she was about to do a little more difficult. But she was determined…determined to show him the extent of her longing, just how much of a _man _she thought him to be…and that drowned out anything else. The button of his jeans was flicked open and the fly pulled down with two fingers. She could be very precise.

"Bones, why…?" He was bracing himself against the sink now, even though the good stuff hadn't started yet, looking down at her with amazed eyes while her clever hand nudged its way inside his boxers.

"I know who you are, Booth," she breathed, taking him in the palm of her hand and relishing in the way he jerked in response. "And who you are is what I want."

His jeans were only half-down his ass by the time she touched her tongue to him; she expected him to throw his head back, close his eyes while she traced patterns against his skin and tended to his arousal almost carefully, but she felt his eyes burning down onto her. He touched the back of her head and whispered her name, and she found the taste of him was perhaps something she'd been waiting for her entire adult life.

"You," she sighed, stroking him with her hand a few times, "are truly a fully developed man." And then she took him fully and knew she damn well wouldn't talk again until she made him come into her mouth.

It couldn't take long…many more patrons finding the restroom unusable, and someone would be coming with a key, and Founding Fathers would no longer be a viable location for their after-case drinks. So she used all the skill she possessed and all the emotion she felt to give him everything he needed, everything _she _needed…God he felt good, thrusting a little on his own now, sliding against her tongue and the back of her throat, fingertips tangling in her hair…she put her good hand on his ass and encouraged him on.

"Bones…I…I…" He was gasping, and she took him deeper, as deep as she could. "_I need you…"_

_And you have me, _she thought as she accepted the climax she pulled from him, feeling his knees buckle but knowing he'd support himself…support both of them. His fingers massaged her scalp convulsively, and she wished she had more time to linger here. But she didn't, and their friends were waiting for them, and _God _she hoped she made him understand.

Her knees ached as she stood shakily…he took hold of her upper arms, steadying her, and he looked at her with flushed face and black eyes. In the reflection of the mirror behind him, she saw her own blush and swollen lips and knew they'd never look inconspicuous. Ever again

When he spoke, his voice was raspy. "This doesn't fix things."

Her heart fell. She hadn't expected it to fix _everything, _but surely he hadn't been so angry and upset as to not recognize the utter honesty behind her recent actions…

"We're not even anymore. This won't be fixed until I get you home." His one hand dropped to his fly, zipping it up even as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. "And you haven't seen anything quite like Seeley Booth on a mission to prove something."

"You don't have to prove anything." The insistent throbbing between her legs begged for a different answer, so she complied while grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door. "But I'd like to see that anyway."


	29. Romance on the Floor

**A/N: I know the post-100****th**** stuff is probs overdone at this point, but…I couldn't resist the urge to fix them. *sniff* So, spoilers for the 100****th**** here.**

**Many thanks to lizook and shipperatheartrealistbynature, who helped me avoid a complete schmoop-fest.**

**

* * *

  
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_Romance on the Floor: 3rd person_**  
**

"Bones?"

Confusion and alarm were apparent on his face. She couldn't blame him for it; she must have looked pathetic and ridiculous, soaked all the way through, face puffy with hours of out-of-character crying, eyes wide and desperate. "What … how … Jesus, get in here."

He took her by the shoulders and physically urged her inside, her feet moving only to avoid falling over. Seeing him had only confused her more, made her feel more miserable; she couldn't even explain to herself anymore why she'd made this trip, and it made her feel selfish and cruel and terrible. _Are you trying to make things harder for him? _Jared had asked her, and while the answer was no, she couldn't be entirely sure that it wasn't _exactly _what she was doing…

_She'd called as a last resort. She hadn't been able to get in touch with Booth for days, his car wasn't in his driveway, and she was informed by the field office that he was on vacation—but he hadn't told her about any vacation, and Cam gave her a sympathetic look and told her she didn't know either. Booth, Brennan knew, was a grown man, capable of taking care of himself. The panic she felt at not knowing his whereabouts was illogical but overwhelming, and she was sure it was apparent when she called Jared._

_Jared's voice was cool on the other end of the line; yes, he knew where Booth was, yes, he was fine. He hesitated when she asked if he'd _please _be more specific. "I'm not sure that's your business anymore, Temperance. You know, I had been rooting for the two of you. But you really fucked him up, you know that? What do you want to do, go out there and make things harder for him than you already have?"_

_It had hurt her, what he said. But she pressed, and maybe it was the quiver in her voice that made him cave as he told her about the cabin in the mountains, right down to the GPS coordinates. Still, the reluctance was apparent in his tone._

"_Don't make me regret telling you this, Tempe."_

_She wasn't even sure she knew why she was making him tell her, at the time. She didn't know what she was doing when she got in her car and started to drive, and she didn't know why, when the skies opened an hour later, muddying the back dirt roads of the mountain, she started to cry. What she knew was she couldn't stand the way things had become – the awkward silences, the forced conversation, the pain in his eyes when she talked about the dates, the strange, sick feeling when she heard about his. She'd made a decision all those weeks ago to save both of them future pain, when things inevitably fell apart. But it felt suspiciously like they were falling apart anyway, and it hurt so very much. The rain and her tears made for dangerous driving conditions. She pressed forth anyway. Completely illogical._

_When she got to the cabin, it was dark outside and still pouring. She got out of the car, focused on the glow in window, ready to confront this, _him … _and then she didn't move for nearly ten minutes. As the rain soaked into her clothes, chilling her all over, a million panicked thoughts rushed through her head. What was she going to say to him? What if he was angry she'd followed him? What if he rejected her, told her she was crazy and that it was too late to make this better?_

_What if he wasn't even alone in there? The thought made her shudder._

_In the end, it was only the threat of hypothermia – and the doubt that her car was capable of carrying her back down the washed-out mountain roads – that forced her into action. She'd put this in motion, and now she had to follow through. _

_Even if it was the last nail in the coffin of their partnership._

There was a fireplace at the far end of the room, lit high and crackling and lending warmth against the surrounding chill. It provided most of the light in the room, dark as it was outside—there was no electricity here, no lamps. The sound of the rain on the roof and the crackling of the fire seemed deafening as he urged her to sit on the rug in front of it. "Hold on, I'm getting you a towel."

She stared at the flames until he came back, barely noticing when he wrapped a large white towel around her shoulders and pressed it against her. The touch brought her back to awareness that she was _so cold, _her teeth were chattering, and she moved just a little closer to the fire to suck up the warmth.

Booth circled around her, easing down on his knees. "What are you _doing here? _Are you okay? Are you hurt?_" _His eyes searched her up and down, checking for signs of injury.

His concern nearly made her start crying all over again. "Jared told me where you were." It was the hopelessly inadequate answer, and it didn't for a second take away the confusion in his face. She tried again, her voice trembling. "I find that I'm … unhappy."

She saw his mouth set in a line at her words, and knew that they were the wrong ones too. Wrong, and wholly insufficient.

"You came to the middle of nowhere in the pouring rain because you're unhappy."

"Yes." She bit her lip, and shook her head in frustration, rivulets of water making their way down her cheeks. "I'm being very confusing."

"Yes. Yes, you are."

He looked perfectly perplexed, and … guarded. It was that caution she'd been despising; Booth had been so open with her, for as long as they'd been friends, but now he treated her like he was vaguely worried she'd strike out and bite him. She felt that distance now, and it pained her. "I'm sorry, Booth," she whispered, head dropping. "I really thought I'd be okay with all this. But _we're _not okay, and … that's worse than _me _not being okay."

His brain was working, processing … ridiculously, it seemed she could almost feel it, the neurons and synapses wrapping around the words, trying to form conclusions about her intentions. When he spoke, the frustration was evident in his tone. "Bones, I gotta say, I'm really confused about what you want from me. I've been trying to respect your wishes … respect _you. _But, you _gotta _understand that things can't be the way they were before, right? It wasn't healthy for either of us."

_But it had felt good. It had felt warm and safe and without it, she felt like she was falling into some deep, endless abyss. _She found the courage to lift her head again, meet his gaze. "Why did _you_ come here?"

He didn't owe her any answers, and for a quiet moment she thought he wouldn't tell her. Then… "I used to come up here when I started to feel the urge to gamble, after I started recovery. To clear my head, and … it was far enough away that even if I lost that battle, it wouldn't be so easy to give in. Sometimes a man needs distance."

Her eyes widened. "Were you thinking about gambling again?"

Studying her in the firelight, he was slow to respond. "No. Not exactly." Shifting, he eased down to sit fully on the floor, scrutiny unrelenting. "How about you, Bones?"

She was a scientist, and the literal sort. But she knew this metaphor by now. She had to force through the catch in her throat to speak. "Angela told me once that everybody is allowed to have one huge change of heart in their life, without anyone judging or doubting their sanity."

He stayed silent, watchful.

It was torture to continue, but she did it anyway. _Had _to. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"I feel like I may have made a mistake."

"A mistake," he echoed, as if not trusting the word.

"Yes," she confirmed, miserably, her eyes downcast. She pulled the now-soaked towel more tightly around her shoulders, and he stood, disappearing for another second and coming back with several more towels and a blanket. Gently taking off the heavy, wet towel and tossing it aside next to the fireplace, he replaced it with a dry one and placed the rest in a pile next to them.

"If it makes you feel any better," he said quietly, sitting down next to her on the floor again, "I recognize that I didn't handle things the best way either."

She felt no urge to ask him why, or how. What had been done had been done; the way they had (badly) handled things couldn't be erased, and now the aftermath was what they had to confront. Still, there was one question that had been tormenting her for days; one that she wasn't entirely sure she _wanted _to know the answer to. It was with trepidation that she voiced it.

"Have you done it? Moved on. I know that none if this really matters, if you have." She tipped her eyes back up, fearfully.

"Oh, Bones." Some of the hardness drained out of his face at her obvious fear and struggling. It was with a huge sigh that he reached out, gathered her still soaking body, and pulled her towards him in a hug.

Terrifyingly, he didn't say anything else for a long while, simply held her to his chest while she lost the ability to distinguish between the rainwater and her renewed tears. This could very well be a farewell embrace, she realized, clinging, and trying to wrap her mind around the enormity of what this rejection would mean. Their partnership was already on tenuous ground. It couldn't take another blow. It couldn't take more distance. She held him hard. If nothing else, she'd remember what it was like to be in the arms of someone who really, _truly _cared about her … before she had to accept that he'd _moved on._

"I didn't."

The words were almost too quiet to be heard over the pounding rain on the roof, but she was sensitized to the sound of his voice. She froze.

"I couldn't." A little louder, and she pulled away slightly, still terrified to meet his eyes.

He hooked a finger under her chin, raising it and forcing her to look into his grave face; his tone was tinged with the frustration of a man who had been struggling with an exercise in futility. "I can't."

The admission simultaneously made her stomach drop and her heart twist. Was he saying…?

"The truth is…" He paused, as if considering the wisdom of telling her all this. "I came here to clear my head. The dating … it wasn't working out. I wanted it to, _needed _it to … but it wasn't."

Her heart was pounding, her tears, for the moment, stopped.

"The truth is…" he repeated slowly, eyes reflecting a pain that she desperately wanted to extinguish. "I'm not sure what to do. Because no matter how hard I try, I haven't been able to forget how your lips taste in the rain. And whatever road I take, they all seem to lead to you."

"Oh," she breathed, her lungs and heart both aching.

"The truth is … I'm as scared as you are, Bones. Fucking out of my mind petrified. Because whatever you came here tonight to do, I don't know if my heart can take any more changes of yours."

His struggle was apparent. He'd put himself on the line once already, and had been abandoned the way she'd been abandoned. It wasn't something one recovered from easily. She knew this. She knew how it felt to want something so badly it made you ache, and the only thing worse than not having it, was imagining having it and feeling like it would certainly be snatched away.

Her knuckles were white, gripping the front of his shirt. "Will you help me learn how to gamble?" she whispered, knowing that she probably looked positively panic-stricken—at the possibility of either answer he might give her.

He studied her for heart-stopping minutes, and she had sudden and sick empathy for what he must have felt like all those weeks ago, when he asked her to _please give them a chance. _She'd thought that she'd been saving him heartbreak by saying no, saving _herself _heartbreak. But she'd been wrong.

"That depends."

God, what did he want? For her to beg? For her to promise that she _knew _this was right, that she could do this? Because she didn't know that. She was _so damn bad at this…_

"Will you help me learn how to bet smart?"

She blinked, understanding coming slowly. It took a moment for her to find her voice. "I … I am typically very logical, and rational, and I'm very good at weighing risks and benefits and … yes. I think I can do that."

It didn't happen immediately … she saw several different expressions melt across his face before a small smile took residence there. Tiny, rueful, hopeful … but most importantly, _real. _He hadn't smiled at her with that genuineness in _weeks, _and the simple gesture nearly made her want to start crying again in relief.

"Yeah?" he asked, reaching out and brushing a damp, tangled curl from her shoulder.

The enormity of it was almost too much for her to comprehend. She'd been so sure that she didn't get to have happily ever after, that she could never be what he needed; she feared that even _trying _would make it all fall apart. And all of that was still a distinct possibility; she was too rational to believe otherwise. Yet … these past few weeks had proved to her that while trying may well lead to misery, _not _trying was a sure path there. She'd been hurting for Booth, hurting for her own brokenness. Things were never going to be the same, but…

She had a chance to make them better. _They _had a chance. And hell, that chance was better when they were in it together.

"Yeah," she agreed fiercely, falling into his chest at the same time he opened his arms to her. He was well-soaked by this point, both their clothes clinging and uncomfortable, but _God _his embrace was strong and perfect and she never wanted leave. If they could just stay here, warming in the fire and safe from the storm, this could never go wrong.

They held each other for long moments, not quite sure or maybe just unable to wrap their minds around what they had just agreed to. They only pulled apart when she started shivering again. Regretfully he released her, pulling the second towel away from her and adding it to the growing, wet pile. This time he had more in easy reach, and taking one he circled her with it, pressing it to her damp hair and rubbing to dry it.

She studied has face as he performed the tender gesture – the face of Booth, the one she trusted. The one she made exceptions for. The rush of affection she felt was almost overwhelming. He'd been concentrating on drying her, but the intensity of her gaze caught his focus and his eyes met hers. Their faces were so very close. Her breath caught in anticipation.

He was still hesitating, though his eyes were filled with a familiar desire.

"Booth," she breathed, hearing the towel he was holding drop behind her with a heavy sound.

"I'm afraid if I kiss you, you'll push me away again," he confessed, fingertips grazing her face.

She refused to be afraid anymore tonight, and hell if she would let _him_ give into those fears. Six years ago, she'd melted into the kiss they shared, dauntless in his (_their) _belief that it was _going somewhere, _even when she hadn't been quite sure where _somewhere _would be. Now, being in his arms renewed that strength. She leaned forward into his lips, eyes shut tightly and heart thudding in her chest.

There was stillness at first, a simple, warm, tentative press of lips. And then she moved, brushing her mouth across his. _Please, Booth … you said you knew. Don't doubt it now._

Whether triggered by her kiss or in answer to her unspoken plea, the last vestiges of his caution were ripped away in a sudden, breathless moment. He pulled her into him hard, making her gasp against his mouth before she felt the urgent tangle of his tongue with hers. Then they were kissing … _really kissing … _and the way they had been and they way they were all merged together in a thrilling fusion. There was nobody standing watch, no tequila to dull the sensation.

This was them. And damn if it didn't feel _so incredibly right._

She felt herself being pressed to the rug beneath them, moved by his persistent kisses. Her hands grasped at his biceps, the floor suddenly feeling not enough support. She was falling, falling … only this time it felt less scary than exhilarating.

He gasped her name as he pulled away from her –she reached out, trying to pull him back before she saw the tears in his eyes. "I thought I was going to have to live without this," he whispered. "I thought you'd never let me love you."

There was no surprise at his words; the pang of regret for their lost time was fleeting before the heady desire and need rushed in and took its place. "We're both here now," she told him, silently begging him to realize the complex meaning behind her simple words.

His exhale was shaky as he trailed his eyes down and back up her prone form, seeming to drink her in. "I wanna make this last," he murmured, running his thumb across her kiss-swollen lower lip, the adoration in his face making her breath hitch.

"Booth." She shivered from the sensation of her still-wet clothes and the intensity of his expression. "Don't let me stay cold…"

With a sigh he descended on her once more, lips capturing hers, warm hands bolder as they pushed up under the clinging material of her shirt. The intimacy of the touch, and all the promise it held, made her dizzy.

"I won't," he promised against her lips.

Their clothes resisted divestment, but they were no match for persistent hands and eager fingers; they'd each been denied the other's touch for too long, their skin aching for the contact. Neither of them had ever fully given themselves permission to feel this, and now that they had – it verged on overwhelming. He kissed her body with a reverence she'd never experienced before; her eyes traced the contours of his with an appreciation she'd _never _mustered for another lover. This was so incredibly different, and intoxicating, and … without a doubt, _going somewhere._

The outside world faded, and the desperate defeated longing of the past several weeks melted away. They whispered to each other, between kisses, as they explored one another's fire-lit bodies; words of admiration and awe, of relief and desire. By the time he was poised to enter her, the floor solid and unyielding at her back, she was near-begging. It was time for this. She wanted this.

That first moment of joining brought tears to her eyes; everything went still and quiet and somewhere in the midst of all the _rightness _she had a strange sense of déjà vu. They'd never carried out this particular act before. But the emotion driving it … it had been in her all along. There was no denying it anymore.

"It was always you, Bones,"he panted, squeezing his eyes shut for the moment against the barrage of sensation, burying his face against the silken skin of her throat. "Always."

"I know." Her fingers clasped at him, whether to draw him closer or to anchor herself; _needing _this moment of stillness to adjust to the storm she knew was coming. "I think … I think it was always you, too." Her coherence was to be short-lived. Him inside her, his skin on her skin, his heart with her heart … this would be so good. It already was.

Then he started to move with infinite tenderness, and there was no thinking of how good it would be; there was only feeling it.

--

They could have pulled out the sleeper sofa and it may have been a little more comfortable than the hard floor with its cheap rug. But it all seemed too complicated a task in their lazy, sated state, so instead he simply wrapped them in a blanket and pulled some pillows to the floor and they stretched out there, enjoying the warmth of the fire and each other's bodies.

She traced her fingertips along his chest, marveling in the feel of him, and how he'd made her feel. "I'm happy," she confessed, not quite believing it herself.

He smiled down at her. "Endorphins and dopamine and all of that?"

"Perhaps. I'm a scientist. I believe in all those things." Still. While she certainly had experienced her share of the effects of endorphins and dopamine and serotonin and adrenaline … something about this felt distinctly different.

"Do you believe in fate?" he asked her, running a lazy finger around her ear then trailing it across her cheek to trace a satisfied smile.

"No." She'd never doubted the answer to that particular question. It was just the person she was.

He took this in, stroking her hair.

"I believe in us, though." And that … that was the person she'd become. She looked up at him, suddenly concerned again. "Is that enough?"

His face took on that easy, relaxed, _Booth _smile; the one that she hoped she could give him every day, every time they were together. "That's all there is, Bones. That's everything."

"Good." Satisfied, she nestled her head back into his shoulder. "Because I plan on believing in us a lot from now on. Maybe even a couple more times tonight."

A laugh rumbled in his throat, amused and carefree, and he held her close in the light of the fire. She closed her eyes, completely at peace in knowing that nothing and everything had changed.

* * *

**A/N: OMG there's only one more Scene left! Meep!**


End file.
